A Whirlwind Romance
by zhengjiamei
Summary: Hermione senses that something is up with the newly-changed Draco Malfoy. Suddenly, he isn't the same arrogant, haughty boy she once knew. Has he really changed - or does he have something up his sleeve? Magic can heal everything - except a broken heart.
1. Prologue: Draco

PROLOGUE: Draco

"_Drake, would you consider…"_

"_No, Mum," I say firmly for probably the millionth time._

_I know what it means if Mum suddenly fingers her wand from inside her pocket. About every year, just before I leave for Hogwarts, she says the same thing. This year, though, I finally put my foot down and said no._

"_But it's growing so long," she wheedles, touching my hair fondly._

"_You cut my hair every year," I complain._

"_Because it makes you look much more handsome."_

Yeah, right_, I remark silently. Every year I had the same bowl-shaped cut on my head. Sure I hadn't complained then, but it's different right now. I'm attending my final year at Hogwarts in a few days, and I want to look exactly as how I want to._

_But I wouldn't deny that Mum is right. My hair is growing. Longer than what I am comfortable with, actually. It's growing past my eyes now, and I have to push my hair up much more than necessary. I pretend I don't mind, just to get Mum off my back, but really, I do._

_She knows the battle has been lost. She's been badgering me about my hair ever since I got back from school some two months ago, and never have I once put down my resolve._

"_Well, if you're sure…" She looks at me tenderly, pats the back of my hair (which is growing past my ears), and walks out of my room._

"_Wait, Mum."_

_She turns around. "Hmm?"_

"_We are going to play Quidditch today, me and Nott and Zabini. At Zabini's lawn," I quickly add._

_She cocks her head to the side. "What's wrong with our lawn?"_

"_Well, nothing. It's just that… it would be nice if I had a change of scenery." I've stayed cooped up in this house all summer. More than I can bear._

"_Alright. Just don't stay out too late." She turns back around and silently shuts the door behind her._

_After she leaves, I get down on my knees and obtain the sack I need for the "game" under my mattress. I search for my sneakers as well, which I am sure are underneath my bed, too._

_Oh, right. I'm of age! I could use magic now._

"Accio sneakers!"

_They apparently aren't under my bed. They zoom towards me from the foot of my closet._

_As I sit on the bed and tie my shoelaces, thinking about the Zabinis' lawn, I'm glad that I'd passed the Apparition test I'd had last year, despite the "heavy" workload…_

_I shudder as I think about what that workload was. I've sworn to myself never to think of that again._

"You know you don't want to do this, Draco… You won't kill me…"

_I internally curse myself and focus again on the Quidditch game with Zabini._

_I'm glad that I'd passed the Apparition test I'd had last year._ Hold that thought inside, Slytherin Prince._ The Zabinis' villa is a good half-hour away from our manor (using a broom), and it is terrible to think that I would be walking on foot to get there. The thought that I can pop in and out of places as I please was satisfying. It's the whole part of being magic._

_I get up, run my hand through my hair (which I have been doing a lot for the past few days now), and focus my mind on Zabini's lawn._

Blaise Zabini, _my mind chants._ Blaise Zabini, Blaise Zabini…

_The now-familiar squeezing sensation suddenly engulfs me, and I find myself suddenly standing at the backyard of the Zabini villa. I always feel very proud whenever I Apparate successfully, considering the fact that I'm still not comfortable with the whole squeezing thing._

_Blaise is there, along with Crabbe and Nott. There isn't a broomstick in sight, but a wooden table with a few drinks and a stack of cards. Poker. We've suddenly grown addicted towards that mundane Muggle game._

_I stride over to them, pushing my hair out of my forehead. The sweltering August sun is hot against my nape._

"_You're late," Theodore Nott remarks, his voice impatient._

"_Had to get away from Mother," I answer dully._

_Zabini guffaws and imitates the voice of a child. "Aww, is wittle Drakie-pooh…"_

_I glare at him. He shuts up. I take my seat at the wooden table and fill up my glass with the clear liquid._

_Crabbe begins to shuffle the cards. He's bad at school, I know, but he seems to have a weird connection towards card games. He's acted as our dealer for the many past games we've secretly been having._

_The cards get distributed and he lays down five cards on the center._

_I take a peek at my two cards. A queen of hearts and two diamonds. Quite good._

_In our version of the game, we start with big bucks. Nott, which is on Crabbe's left, bets an instant hundred Galleons._

_Zabini calls the bet. I raise it, though._

"_Hundred and fifty," I say. I was confident with my cards._

_Crabbe gets three cards in the center and puts them face-up. An ace of hearts, four of clubs, and two of hearts._

_Definitely good. This seems to be my lucky day._

* * *

_It is strange, because I haven't had this much luck in a long time, but after a few games (which leaves Zabini practically broke and the bottle of tequila drained), I find that I've gained almost double of what I had initially come with._

"_Draco is on a roll," Zabini slurs, tipping the last glass of alcohol down his throat._

_I laugh. "Maybe you need some of my luck."_

"_No fair being on Felix Felicis," Nott complains._

"_I don't need any bloody antidote," I brag. "I'm just the best at poker there is!"_

_As soon as I say those words, a tiny pop sounds out of nowhere and out stumbles a wrinkled old house-elf dressed in an old dirty rag._

"_Isn't that your house-elf, Draco?" someone asks me. I am too intoxicated to recognize the voice. Maybe it's Crabbe._

"_Huh?" It couldn't be our elf. Mum never lets her out._

_I squint and look closely at the dirty elf. It apparently is Wella, our replacement for Dobby many years ago._

"_Young Master Malfoy," she squeaks in her shrill voice._

_I narrow my eyes. "What are you doing here?"_

_Her eyes widen. She is taught to fear every Malfoy's glare._

"_Wella has come because the Master and Mistress wish for Young Master's presence at the Manor." Her voice shakes._

"_What for?"_

_Her head shaking, she says, "Wella has not been told."_

_Annoyed, I get up from the poker table. What could they want from me? "I'll be back later," I tell the guys._

"_Sure, after your money's all gone," Nott snickers._

"_You'd better not spend my money, you bastards."_

_I take Wella's hand and feel the squeezing sensation again. I know better than to Apparate by myself. With the state my mind is in right now, I wouldn't be surprised if I had gone a million miles from where I lived._

_We arrive at the large oak front doors with the silver serpent door handles. But before we get inside, I pull Wella over to the side._

"_You'd better not tell Mum or Dad about what you just saw, got that? Not the cards, not the alcohol, nothing," I hiss._

_Wella squirms from my grip and squeaks in approval. I drop her rag and proceed inside, trying to clear my head from the influence of alcohol._

_Whenever Dad calls me in for a private talk, the den is always the assembly point. I know this is one of those times, because why else would he bother to send the elf to come and get me?_

_I take a deep breath before I step onto the threshold of the infamous den. Dad sits at the head of the long table, as usual. Mum looks worried._

_I presume my accustomed seat. Mum doesn't look at me, but Dad pierces me with eyes the same as mine. None of them say anything._

_Mum not looking at me is the tipping point. I know this means trouble. Bad news._

_I clear my throat. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"_

* * *

[A/N: For all those who have waited, here is the latest from my month-old pending story. It's not actually a continuation – more like an introduction, really – but you will see later on that this prologue in Draco's POV will prove to be important in the progress of the entire story. (I added this section because I had envisioned an Epilogue in Hermione's POV, and I didn't want to make Draco feel left out.)

Also, for those who have liked my story enough to put it in their favorites' list, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! I had never expected anyone to read my entry considering the number of people who put their stories up on FanFiction every minute of every day, and the fact that this is actually my first fan fiction. Thank you guys so much, and I promise to update this story more often now that my laptop is back from the repair shop. Yipee!

Moreover, for those reading this very long and boring Author's Note (haha), please don't forget to leave your review (every review is most appreciated). I'm new to this sort of thing, and I would appreciate it if you would give me a few pointers on how I can improve myself and my writings. (And maybe even a few suggestions on how you guys think the story should go! -Nina]

*I'm sorry about the mistakes in the poker game! I'm not a poker player, and I wrote the first version of the story while under my friend's instructions. I didn't quite understand them, though. I've changed the game, though, after doing some research about poker. Sorry again, you guys! -Nina


	2. Chapter 1: Hermione

CHAPTER 1: Hermione

I held my breath as I got onto Platform 9 and ¾, The Hogwarts Express, with Harry and Ron and his family. It was now our seventh year at Hogwarts, the wizarding school, and it kind of struck me that it would be my final year of books, exams and the lot, and I wasn't sure if I liked that very much.

"Final year this year," Ginny Weasley whispered to me, her voice heavy.

At that I laughed. "You're worried about this year?" I asked incredulously. "You have two years to go."

"Well, next year he won't be around." She gave Harry Potter, one of my best friends, a significant look.

Harry and Ginny had _that_ sort of thing. They'd gotten together just the previous year; of course, Harry was nervous about what Ron (who was Ginny's brother _and_ Harry's best friend) might think, but it turned out to be the least of his worries. I knew Harry liked Ginny even before he admitted it to himself – I just wasn't that sure about it.

Mrs. Weasley, Ginny's and Ron's mother, started handing out wrapped sandwiches. "Here's one for you, Ron…," she was saying, "And you, Harry…"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," I heard Harry reply gratefully, quickly pocketing his. Harry had no memories of his parents, and though I wasn't allowed to do it, I sometimes pitied him. I'd always thought that my parents were nothing exceptional; I mean, they weren't members of the Order nor were they creators of a Sorcerer's Stone, but at least they were there for me. Harry, catching my eye, gave me a smile.

"This isn't corned beef again, is it, Mum?" Ron complained, who unwrapped the plastic and peeked inside. How childish.

"No, Ron, it isn't. Now get onto the train before it drives away," she told him.

As though Mrs. Weasley's words were the signal, the train's horn blared. I held on tighter to my bonnet as I clambered onto the train; once, while I was in my fourth year, the wind had picked up and blew it away. We hung our heads out of the open window and received kisses from Mrs. Weasley.

"Take care," she shouted to each of us. "Have fun in school! Hermione, dear, study hard…"

"I will, Mrs. Weasley," I assured her. "And I can guarantee you that Harry and Ron will study hard with me."

She chuckled and gave me an extra hug. "Take care, then. See you at Christmas."

Harry and Ron left to locate our compartment while Ginny and I watched Mrs. Weasley disappear as the train picked up speed; eventually, she became nothing more than a tiny speck. We straightened ourselves up and tossed our long hair back – but as I did, the strong wind picked up my bonnet and it floated a few feet away.

It fell onto the feet of a tall, blond boy, whose skin was so pale that it looked as though it had never touched the sun. He was going to step on my pink bonnet with his shiny new shoes, I was sure. He was going to sneer in my face and say I was a Mudblood, I was surer.

But what I was not sure about was that he stooped down and picked it up. With his long fingers clasping my bonnet Draco Malfoy asked us, "Any of you drop this?"

It was my first time to see him without his usual cronies Crabbe and Goyle, so I wanted to torment him the way he usually tormented me, Harry, and Ron. I wanted to shout, you foul loser… but I could not bring myself to say it. What was the matter with me? Why was I suddenly so nervous? Didn't I just punch his face back when we were in third year?

But instead of wrath I heard myself mumble, "That's mine."

I took a few steps forward, keeping my wand hand inside my coat pocket just in case Malfoy was only pretending to be nice and wanted to hex me. I took a deep breath as I stood right in front of him and reached my palm out slowly.

_Stupefy! _I imagined him shouting.

It never came.

Instead, he dropped the hat into my outstretched hand and gave me a crooked smile. "How was your summer, Granger?" he asked rather haughtily.

I swallowed. "F-fine." I tried to sound as indifferent as I could.

"Cool. I'll see you around then." He gave me another crooked smile and walked off, leaving me standing there and looking after him like a complete idiot.

What just happened?

I regained my composure, pulled the bonnet back over my head, and walked back to Ginny. Ginny looked as dazed as I felt. Her mouth was open and her eyes wide.

"What was that?" she asked incredulously. "Are you sure that wasn't someone on Polyjuice only pretending to be Malfoy?"

"I don't really know," I said honestly. I really didn't know what happened.

"Weird," Ginny mumbled.

And we were on our way to finding our compartment and Harry and Ron.

Something I had witnessed earlier remained persistently in the back of my mind, even though I didn't want to remember it. I had never noticed it, and I certainly didn't want to picture it. But it was always there, even when we had found Harry and Ron and they were talking to us about more important things.

I'd never detected it since he never actually smiled before.

Malfoy had _dimples_.


	3. Chapter 2: Hermione

CHAPTER 2: Hermione

Harry and Ron were inside our train compartment with Neville Longbottom, our fellow seventh-year Gryffindor, and Luna Lovegood, a sixth-year Ravenclaw. We'd become friends because of the encounter with the Death Eaters inside the Ministry of Magic while we were in our fifth year, just before the school year had ended. Harry's godfather, the infamously-known Sirius Black, had died in combat.

"Ron, I'm telling you, being in Hogwarts right now is a huge mistake. With Dumbledore gone –" Harry was saying hotly.

"D'you think I want to be in Hogwarts any more than you do? We're talking about Mum. Once she finds out we never went to school – and left Ginny there alone –"

"We're all going to Hogwarts right now. We might as well make the best of it," Luna piped in her usual dreamy voice.

Neville was looking nervously from one to another, biting his lower lip.

Ginny and I sat down beside Neville and looked at the ongoing argument. "Anything we missed?" Ginny whispered to him.

Neville sighed. "They've been like this ever since they got here."

"You two." Ron suddenly looked onto us, his face beet red. Ron's face was always flushed whenever he was angry or embarrassed. "D'you want to be in Hogwarts or not?"

What a question. Of course I did. I liked doing well in school, and I liked being in school.

"I don't think we have any choice, but if Harry says –"

"There's always a choice!" Harry bellowed.

"– it's a bad idea to be in Hogwarts right now, then it probably is," Ginny finished, seemingly oblivious to Harry's outburst. "After all, Harry senses You-Know-Who. He's the only one who really knows what's going on in his mind."

"I don't know everything," Harry mumbled. "All I have is a scar on my head."

"And that's enough. You've done enough for us." Ginny reached over and patted the back of Harry's hand. "Besides, I don't think being Hogwarts is completely dangerous. There might still be traces of the protection that Dumbledore left while he was… still there."

"Ginny," I whispered hesitantly, "_Hogwarts, A History _says that whatever protection a headmaster leaves will disappear right with him as soon as he does."

"Then we'll figure something out." Neville's voice sounded determined. "We got through a bunch of Death Eaters, didn't we? I don't see how we can't survive this one."

"You're right. Besides, grittywopples are scarier, but I'm not afraid of those either," Luna chimed in.

Ron's mouth hung open at her words. Despite all of us having known each other and having been together for the past two years, he still hadn't grasped if Luna was really just being Luna or just plain loony.

That was the end of that conversation. For now, at least, knowing Harry.

A somewhat-private conversation erupted between Harry and Ginny, and I decided on keeping that between the two of them since they hadn't had much time to talk to each other over the summer, what with Harry being depressed over Dumbledore's death and not wanting to talk to anyone about it. Luna, who was now intently reading, had pulled on a pair of Spectrespecs and had brought last month's edition of The Quibbler up to her nose. Neville was looking out the compartment window, which I saw was filled with busy streets and even busier people. Ron, pretending to rummage through a knapsack that was right next to me on the floor, had scuttled over my side.

"What are grittywopples?" he whispered as he pulled out an old, battered book. Probably one of his brothers'.

I laughed. "I don't know either."

Ron was tall and gangly. _But cute_, my brain added. He, like the rest of the Weasleys, had flaming red hair and freckles. When we were in first year, I hated his guts, but now – well, it was a lot more different now.

He plopped down on the seat next to me, completely forgetting about the book he got from his bag. "It's a good thing that Ginny stepped into that conversation. I think Harry was about ready to jump off the train just so he wouldn't have to go to Hogwarts."

"He was very close to Dumbledore, Ron. If it were me, I would've felt the same way, too."

He then looked intently at me. "How are you? Really?" Concern was dripping through his voice.

"I'm… okay." I hadn't stayed with his family over the summer and only went to the Burrow a week before we were scheduled to go to Hogwarts. "I've been better though." I gave a weak laugh.

"Yeah. Me too. Wonder who'll be headmaster this year. If it'd be Umbridge again I'd take the first broomstick out of Hogwarts."

"We left Umbridge to the centaurs, remember? I don't think they'd release her anytime soon."

He discussed about several possibilities of who could be headmaster; some of what he suggested were far too outlandish. And then he came back to his original theory of having Professor McGonagall as Headmaster. Of course, he didn't know that I knew exactly who Headmaster was. It was heartbreaking to think of who it was, and I just realized that I couldn't disappoint him and Harry any further…

Around half-past twelve a smiling dimpled woman came, pushing a trolley filled with sweets on the train hallway. Her dimples reminded me of – but I tried very hard not to think about whose. She slid back our compartment door and asked, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry and Neville were the first to get up to buy their sweets. I pulled Mrs. Weasley's homemade sandwiches out of my purse and realized that I, too, was very hungry. Pulling one of them apart and realizing that I wasn't allergic to any of the components of the sandwiches, I took a huge bite. Mmm. Tuna sandwich.

Ron searched in his pocket for some coins and counted a few Sickles, and then his ears turned pink when he realized that it wasn't nearly enough to buy anything off the cart. Hoping that no one noticed, he slipped the coins back into his pocket and reached for the knapsack where he had put his sandwiches in.

"Ron! Heads up!"

Ron looked up just as soon as Harry threw him a Pumpkin Pasty and caught it with both hands.

"Thanks, mate!" Ron grinned. I could tell that the tension between them was over.

Neville was busily unwrapping one of his Chocolate Frogs and peering quickly at the card inside. I could almost hear him groan. He, like Ron and Harry, had developed a knack for collecting Famous Witches and Wizards cards. I could even say that he was an even bigger enthusiast about it now.

I'd noticed that Luna hadn't moved from where she was sitting with The Quibbler and her Spectrespecs on and caught her attention.

"Luna, aren't you hungry? The sweets woman just left, but I'm sure she hadn't gotten very far," I said.

Luna put down the magazine and smiled at me. "No, thank you, Hermione. I like eating the start-of-term banquet with an empty stomach. It's very satisfying because I tend to eat a lot more." And then she went back to her reading.

After we'd all eaten the train went flying past the countryside and the setting became rougher, the window showing thick woods and wild rivers. Ginny had fallen asleep on Harry's lap and Harry was caressing her hair.

My kidneys acted and I stood up.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I told Ron.

Ron, whose face was stuffed from all the leftover sweets given to him, just nodded. I slid open the compartment door and flitted outside.

The train hallway was drafty. First-years (obviously) were running up and down the corridor, making friends or simply playing. I looked at one particular blonde girl and wondered_, was I really that small back then?_ I didn't think so. She must've been exceptionally small.

I remembered my time as a first-year. Back when life was easy, when getting top grades and having the answers to all my professors' questions were my only priority. Of course, that was before I met Harry and Ron. Since then, I had different priorities, but that didn't mean I dropped the old ones.

I returned to our compartment as soon as I left the girls' bathroom. On the way, I saw Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, my fellow Gryffindors, and they asked how I was. Of course, Lavender was evidently avoiding my eye, since she and Ron had been together just the previous year for a few months until, well, let's just say that Ron and _I_ were together now.

And then I saw the worst possible person that could take up the compartment next to ours.

Malfoy was just coming out of their compartment when he saw me. I didn't want to confront him. I didn't even want to talk to him, despite him maybe being on Nice Pills these days. Or maybe he was just bipolar. I've heard that disease was popular among Hollywood stars.

He showed his dimples again. "Hey."

I didn't get it. Why was he suddenly being so nice?

"Bye." I strode past him.

"Wait, Granger." He held up one arm and blocked my way. He had unbelievably _looong_ arms.

Exasperated, I wheeled over and turned to face him. "All right, Malfoy, game's over. What's the catch?" I snapped.

The scent of his perfume intoxicated me and reminded me of my dad's. Was that Armani I smelled?

His eyes widened. "What catch?" he asked, stunned. "I just – wanted to say hi."

"Then if you please, say hi to someone else. I don't need to be bothered by you."

"Come on, Granger, loosen up. Can't anyone compliment you on your new haircut?" As soon as he said those words, a slight pink tinge appeared on his pale cheeks.

He noticed my hair. _And Ron didn't_, my insecure side sneered.

_Oh, shut up_, I said to it.

I stuck my nose up. His scent overwhelmed me further. "Anything else?" I retorted.

He seemed uncomfortable. "See you in school, I guess."

"Thank God." I pushed my way past him and slammed our compartment door with more force than necessary.

Ron couldn't tell why I was suddenly in such a grumpy mood. He asked me if it was someone who vexed me while I was in the bathroom, and I said no. He then wondered if I was mad because I hadn't been able to _go, _if I knew what he meant. Gross. Of course I knew what he meant.

"Ronald. Would you please just drop it?" I snapped, annoyed.

"Fine. Jeez," he mumbled.

The rest of the afternoon went on roughly. I couldn't wait to get into the Gryffindor Tower and onto my bed. Personally, I didn't want to attend the banquet anymore.

But if I were being honest with myself, I didn't have the faintest idea of why I was so irritated. Was it just because of Malfoy? He didn't do, or much less, say anything that could irritate anyone who had been in my shoes. If I had to be fair, I would say that he had been exceptionally nice and polite, for someone like _Malfoy_. So then, why was I so mad?

_You're just not used to him being so nice_, my sensible side stated. _Maybe you feel guilty for what you've always thought about him until now, now that he's the opposite of it._

My insecure side had something to say about that.

_Maybe it isn't Malfoy you're mad at, stupid. Maybe it's Ron. Maybe you secretly enjoyed how Malfoy told you how your hair looked nice and how Ron never noticed it._

My two sides weren't making any sense today.

As soon as the PA system announced that we were almost there, we pulled our Hogwarts robes on and readied ourselves for the arrival. I felt a great sense of relief. Once we were in school Malfoy wouldn't dare talk to me again. After all, a Slytherin wouldn't want to be seen talking to a Gryffindor.


	4. Chapter 3: Draco

CHAPTER 3: Draco

"… _Granger to fall for you."_

"_The Mudblood?! No! I will not stoop down to that level!"_

"_Aren't they best friends, Drake? She might be the bridge to the seizure of Harry Potter."_

"_Why is it that I have to do it?"_

_His palm slams to the dark oak table. "Have you forgotten about the feat which you have not been able to perform the previous year? Or my shame at the Ministry? It's one way – the only way – to regain our family's dignity."_

My long hair flailed wildly because of the cool evening air as I shook my head and recalled the last conversation I had with Father and Mother. Of course. I saw it coming, didn't I? I'd always known we had to do something about those two failed tasks. We had to make up for them.

But what I hadn't counted on was that it was only _I_ who had to make up for them. Only _I_ who had to do all the dirty work.

If it had been any other task, I might've gladly taken up the challenge. I would eat a bucketful of flobberworms if I had to. I would even go to Hogwarts on _foot_. No, wait. I wouldn't do that. That was servant's work.

But Mudblood Granger? Fall in love with _me_? That was impossible. Besides, I heard she was going out with the weasel.

But if I had to be honest, Granger had changed drastically over the summer. Last time I saw her, she had this big brown mop on her head and large front teeth. Now, she'd grown up to be, well, quite attractive. I remembered how her chocolate brown eyes looked on the train, and wondered how they would look if she weren't glaring at me.

Or maybe she'd been attractive her whole life and I just couldn't look past my prejudices against her blood heritage to really notice.

If she weren't a Mudblood, she could have potential. I was a man, after all.

"… _you'll lure her. Seduce her, even. Just make sure she's yours."_

_I almost gag. "I have to _kiss_ her?"_

"_Do whatever you have to. And when she trusts you completely…" he pauses._

"_We'll snatch Harry Potter from right under her nose."_

"Have you seen Granger?" Blaise Zabini's voice brought me out of my reverie. He wolf-whistled. "Pretty Mudblood, that one."

My eyes narrowed. I suddenly didn't like them talking about Granger that way. As though she were a horse they were appraising and intending to buy.

"However pretty she looks, she's still a Mudblood," my girlfriend of years Pansy Parkinson scoffed. "She could cover her face with makeup all she wants, but inside she's still the same filthy mutt I grew to hate."

_Speak for yourself_, I remarked, glancing at Pansy's heavily made up face. As far as I had seen, Granger hadn't worn any makeup.

The horseless carriage carried us slowly towards the castle. I hadn't remembered the carriages to be this slow. I suddenly wanted to just crawl into my four-poster at the Slytherin dungeon and go to sleep, hoping that everything that had happened within the past three days had been a dream and I had to wake up.

Only it wasn't a dream. It was bitter reality.

Granger, in love with me. Ugh.

Pansy suddenly snuggled close to my chest, her fingertips caressing the side of my face. "I'm so proud that you're Head Boy this year, Drake."

Oh, yeah. Apart from my demoralizing task, I had Head Boy duties to follow. I suddenly detested the golden badge that was gleaming on the left side of my robes.

I had actually been ecstatic as soon as the package arrived for me via owl post, the one with my badge. It was a nice thought, thinking that I could somehow bully my way over the school as the school year progressed. That I could somehow shove it in the famous Potter's face that I had been chosen as Head Boy and not him.

I had fretted over the summer on who Head Girl would be and was anxious about meeting her. It hadn't been any of us Slytherins. I'd wagered on somebody from Ravenclaw, maybe that mouse-haired Brocklehurst girl. I'd heard she was one of the best witches in our year.

But right now, fretting about her was the least of my worries. It seemed almost insignificant.

Granger, uninvited, kept popping into my mind. I had a taste of how I was supposed to act around her for the next few days – weeks, even – and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I didn't completely hate it – watching her blush profusely at my flattery, or seeing her eyes blink far more than necessary – and was even _charmed_ by her actions. I racked my brains and thought of a logical explanation as to why I felt that way. Maybe she was using an old Muggle trick that worked its way around magic people that I'd never heard of.

Yes, that had to be it. I had to be on my toes at all times.

The carriage abruptly stopped at the wide open gates. I'd gotten down first and helped Pansy off the wagon, more because I felt that I needed to, not because I'd wanted to.

Pansy smiled at me, her thick lips (_blood_ red?) spreading over her wide face.

"Thank you," she whispered, intertwining her fingers with mine.

For the first time, I didn't smile back.

It took us an unbearably long time to cross the grassy lawn with all the other students and onto the stone steps leading into the castle that I suddenly felt uncomfortable having Pansy's hand in mine. I discreetly pulled my hand back and pretended to rummage for something inside my robe pocket. She seemed not to notice, for which I was grateful for.

McGonagall was waiting for the first-year students inside the entrance hall as soon as we got in. I hated that teacher. She gave me a P in my Transfiguration O.W.L.s.

She spotted me and called me over. "Mr. Malfoy."

I gave Pansy a nonverbal goodbye and strode over to my most detested professor.

"Yes, Professor?"

She looked rather like she didn't want to say whatever it was that she needed to, but she said it anyway.

"The Headmaster would like a word with you before the banquet starts."

* * *

[A/N: It's quite an early reveal, don't you guys think? I'm so sorry that he turned out this way, and that he was only talking to Hermione because of "a daunting task," and not because he was genuinely interested in her. Things will get better though, I promise! And, oh yeah, please don't forget to leave your review! –Nina]


	5. Chapter 4: Hermione

CHAPTER 4: Hermione

We, along with the rest of the student body population, clambered up the stone steps and walked on through the large oak front doors. Professor McGonagall, in her signature tight bun, was waiting inside obviously for the first years, just like she had done with us.

"Good evening, Professor." Seeing her had brightened my mood considerably. She was Head of Gryffindor House, and one of my most favorite professors. Probably because she had been the first one to give me a house point.

She blinked and seemed to remember something. "Oh, yes, Ms. Granger. The Headmaster would like a word with you before the feast."

On instinct, my mind went blank. It was sort of like having the principal call on you, perhaps because you've gotten yourself in trouble or detention.

"The H-headmaster? But what…"

And then it hit me.

Oh, crap.

Along with the annual school letter enclosing a list of all the spellbooks we needed for the incoming school year, I had received a parcel bestowing upon me the Head Girl badge. I'd actually pinned it on my chest to see how it would look upon me and was euphoric enough to send an owl instantly to Harry and Ron, telling them the good news and asking if either of them got the badge as well. It was only much later in the day that I'd actually looked at what the else the parcel contained.

I suddenly didn't like the badge anymore, as though having the happy balloon inside me get a puncture.

Along with it came a long letter, written in expensive parchment paper, which started with _Congratulations, Ms. H. Granger._

And signed Professor S. Snape_, Headmaster._

I could say that if I had still been living in the Muggle world, I had the package "returned to sender" along with a rude note saying that I never would be performing any sort of duty to a murderer like him.

I thought I'd gotten rid of that problem. Couldn't Snape take a hint?

"Professor, no – I don't want –"

"I _know_, Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagall said in frustration. It was those rare times that she'd lost control of her personal reactions. "But he's headmaster now. This is _school_. Whatever he did to Albus was non-school-related."

"He's a cold-blooded killer," I spat out harshly.

"What about those other pupils willing to learn under his administration? We can't hold one insignificant thing against him and boycott him to other students."

"That was not one insignificant thing, and you know that, Professor."

"And you have to set a good example, being the Head Girl that you are."

This conversation was definitely one of those rare times. I couldn't imagine ever having a time when I hated Professor McGonagall. Couldn't she defend me against Snape, tell him that I couldn't possibly want to perform any sort of job under him, after what he had done?

"The Headmaster is waiting for you," Professor McGonagall repeated, and set me off.

I stomped back towards where Ron was waiting for me near the hourglasses that showed the house points status, perhaps in an even worse mood than before. I was so angry with her that I forgot to even ask who Head Boy was.

"So what did McGonagall want?" Ron asked with a cautious tone.

"Head Girl duties," I hissed.

His forehead wrinkled. "Then why are you so mad? I thought you were all excited over the summer."

"Not when you find out who Headmaster actually is," I replied in a dangerous voice.

"But I thought you didn't know who Headmaster was."

I stated the obvious. "Oh, Ronald, I couldn't get the badge without knowing who it was from, could I?" Honestly. How could he even not think of that? Harry had sent me Hedwig over the summer and overlooked the very thing that Ron had. I'd sent back a lie, saying that the note wasn't signed.

"So who is Headmaster?"

I tried to put as much venom into the monosyllabic word. "_Snape_."

I left without waiting for Ron's jaw to unhinge and proceeded towards the wooden door that led to the stone staircases leading down into the dungeons, where Snape's office resided.

I hated it down here. The whole floor seemed to be several degrees lower than the actual temperature of whole castle. It also always seemed to be dark and gloomy, though a number of torches were lit up along the walls. My leather shoes echoed against the cobbled stone floor as I made my way to Snape's dingy office.

I paused for a while at the door and took a deep breath before I raised my knuckles to knock.

"Enter," sounded Snape's whisper.

I turned the ordinary door handle, came in, glanced around the room, and almost walked back out.

I nearly didn't take any notice of Snape's low murmur saying "Ah, yes, our Head Girl's here," mainly because of the unruly blond head that turned around as I came in.

The face registered shock, but there was something else there… Fear?

But before I could truly discern if it _was_ fear in his eyes – because why would he be afraid of me? – a mocking smirk replaced all of the previous emotions.

_This cannot be happening._

Snape motioned at the chair across the table from him, right next to my companion's, but before I took the seat my eyes zeroed in on the golden badge (which was similar to what I'd gotten) gleaming at the chest of my companion's robes.

Underneath the largeletter _H _was the name Malfoy.

Are you _freaking_ kidding me.


	6. Chapter 5: Draco

CHAPTER 5: Draco

"_The opposite of love is not hate; it is indifference."_

* * *

It was so obvious that I'd overlooked it completely. Know-it-all Mudblood Granger, Head Girl.

I had it coming, didn't I? I should've known.

Father was going to make sure that I did not and would absolutely not fail at my task. He'd conspired with Snape and pre-arranged the whole thing. Those hours spent debating over in my head about whom Head Girl would be was unnecessary, because he was going to make me spend as much time as I could with the Mudblood whether I wanted to or not. Get her to _fall in love with me _almost instantly.

I could vomit.

Granger's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the badge gleaming on my chest, then tossed her curls over her shoulder as she sat down in one fluid movement.

Snape glanced at the both of us, and then began. "You are here because you both have been chosen as Heads in your year –"

"I believe I've sent my badge back, _Professor_," Granger interrupted, her voice straining to keep the hatred out of it, "along with a letter."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, Ms. Granger. However, the decision was never mine to make in the first place, but rather the superintendents in the school department of the Ministry of Magic."

What a liar. We both knew the truth. Or at least, I thought I did.

"What happens if I don't perform my duties right?" she taunted, leaning back on her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. "Will I finally get replaced?"

I gave a slight snicker. She was surprisingly enjoyable whenever she was fuming.

"Maybe Granger here feels she wouldn't have enough time to perfect all of her N.E.W.T.s if burdened with the heavy task of being Head Girl," I derided, goading her further.

"No one asked you, Malfoy." She shot me daggers with her glare. I grinned. Her glare deepened.

"And she wouldn't have enough time to spend with her destitute boyfriend," I mocked.

"I said shut up!"

"That's enough," Snape ordered. He hadn't shouted or raised his voice to higher than his usual whisper, but Granger and I fell silent at once.

"That's better. Now, whether you both like it or not, you will have to work together for the duration of the school year," he stated. "I expect all school rules implemented and all violations punished. I trust that you both know the basic rules, seeing as how you are in your seventh years."

"Can we break rules to enforce rules?" I drawled.

"What do you mean, Mr. Malfoy?"

"What if, let's say, a couple of students are having a Wizards' Duel, firing hexes at each other. Can we hex them both to make them stop?"

Granger looked at me – looked, not glared. If there were loopholes in the rules, I wouldn't mind being Head Boy even if I had to be working with her all year long. I could use the certain privileges…

"I suppose the rules could be bent under very special circumstances."

I grinned. Granger or no Granger, I was determined to sit as Head Boy.

"And, also, just like the Prefects, the Heads have their own special bathroom at the fourth floor, behind the green and silver tapestry with the goblins weighing emeralds. The password's 'Sixty-six Sickles' but every fortnight it changes, so I suggest you ask the stained glass window picture of a merman inside to get the future passwords.

"That is all. Any questions?"

Granger, though, came back to her initial argument. "Can't you ask the superintendents to pick someone else instead as Head Girl? I'm sorry, but I just can't work with Malfoy."

I didn't know why that last sentence suddenly stopped me cold. Fury rose in me like hot lava exploding from a volcano. She _can't_ work with me – it was worse than having her say that she _wouldn't_ work with me because she despised me, wouldn't ever warm up to me, etc., etc.

But that simple statement made it clear that her feelings weren't the problem. The problem was _me_.

She _can't_ work with me – what was I, hard work? Was I that unpleasant for her? Have I hurt her far too much that she had the nerve to say what she just did?

I was perfect! I had money, I had heritage, and I had the power to go with that. Didn't she know all that?

I suddenly couldn't ever remember a moment when I had hated the goddamn Mudblood as much as I did now.

A brilliant thought came into my furious mind. Maybe the demoralizing task set upon me by my father was my retaliation against her spiteful statement.

"… _you'll lure her. Seduce her, even. Just make sure she's yours."_

Yes, I would make her fall in love with me so deeply that she wouldn't ever regain herself back. I would take everything from her, but the most prized possession will be her heart. I would destroy her until nothing was left of her life.

Father can have worthless Potter. I would have Hermione Granger.

If I could, I would've laughed out loud. But that would've made me look mental.

However, a tiny voice inside my head tried to make itself heard through all the fury. _What are you trying to achieve through all of this, Draco?_ it asked sensibly.

_Why would you even bother?_


	7. Chapter 6: Draco

CHAPTER 6: Draco

After being sent off to the feast by Snape, Granger and I made our way towards the Great Hall with her reluctantly wearing the badge bearing her name.

"I can't believe this," I heard her mutter to herself. "… what Harry would think. Suppose Ron told him already…"

Was this how geniuses were like when they weren't showing off for the entire world to see? Nervous wrecks? And what was she so anxious about that she couldn't tell Potter?

I allowed myself a quick glance at her and saw that she was literally gnawing off her bottom lip. She caught me looking at her, however, and her eyes lost all the nervousness.

She almost growled. "What are you looking at?"

"You could be a tad politer, Granger," I said indifferently. "After all, we would have to be working together for the next few, oh, I don't know, months?"

"I think I've mastered politeness quite well," she countered haughtily. "You, on the other hand, I can't say."

Forget revenge! I never would be able to fool her even if I wanted to. She hated me as much as I hated her!

But maybe I could succeed if I tried hard enough.

I blocked the doorway leading back into the entrance hall before she got a chance to go through it. She looked at me as though she could hex me.

"Get out of the way," she hissed.

I put on my best nice-person act. "Look, Granger, I know you hate me, but let's call it a truce," I said as convincingly as I could. "If we're going to be working together for quite some time, I don't want to stay on my toes and wait for you to hex me all the time."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything. I just want to relax and enjoy my final year here. _Our_ final year here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, I would like that much, much more if I spent as less time with you."

Ouch. She couldn't be more evident in her hating me.

"Then we'll see each other only when we need to, when the situation calls for it. When our duties call for it. And we'll stay out of each other's way," I continued.

"Agreed."

"But we'll keep a cordial relationship whenever we're together."

She gave a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, right. As if you could keep up with that."

This time, _my_ eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't tempt me, Granger," I threatened in a low voice.

She matched my glare with her signature one. "Just get out of the way."

I stepped aside and let her pass, my insides fuming. Oh, how I hated this girl.

The Great Hall was packed with noisy students as I came in and sat down right next to Pansy at the Slytherin Table. The Sorting appeared to be over – the stool with which the Sorting Hat usually sat upon was out of sight.

Pansy squeezed my hand. "So, what did McGonagall ask you to do?"

"Meet Snape for Head Boy duties," I replied, helping myself to mashed potatoes and taking a huge forkful.

"I thought you wanted to be Head Boy."

"I did," came my short reply.

"Then how come you're upset about something?"

Darn Pansy and her unnecessary excessive scrutiny.

I took a moment to consider whether I should tell her or not. I decided I didn't care. "Because _Granger's_ Head Girl."

Pansy dropped the forkful of pie halfway to her mouth. "What!" she spat out. "Mudblood Granger?"

I shrugged and stuffed my mouth full with roast beef so I would have reason not to say anything. I didn't feel much like getting into the matter right now.

"There must be some mistake," she deliberated slowly. "Why would Granger be…? Snape would never –"

I sighed. "Look, Pansy, I'm not in the mood to talk about it right now, so can you please just drop it?"

Pansy's mouth hung open for a while at my words, but she quickly shut it. "Yes, of course, Draco. Sorry."

That was when Zabini took notice of me. "The Head Boy's back!" he jeered.

So much for dropping the subject.

Goyle elbowed him in the ribs. "You'd better not get him cross, Blaise; he might put you in detention," he mocked.

"Dear Gregory, my best friend would never betray me in such a way."

Most of the Slytherins surrounding us guffawed. I had to admit that was pretty funny.

"Be careful, Blaise," I mock-warned. "I'm a Slytherin, remember? We are known to be pretty sly."

"So am I, Draco. So am I."

As we laughed, the plates, which have been filled with the main course just a while ago, now filled themselves up with deserts – ice creams, tarts, pudding, jam doughnuts, apple pies – it had always been my favorite part of the banquet.

I was helping myself to my personal favorite – mint chocolate chip ice cream – when Zabini called my attention again.

"By the way, Draco, who is Head Girl?" he asked.

Weirdly, I felt more comfortable in telling him who it was than I did with Pansy. "Granger," I quickly replied.

Somehow, that seemed to be quite funny for him.

"Granger!" He laughed. "She's quite the catch, Draco; be careful that you don't fall in love with her."

I knew he meant that as a joke, but I couldn't help but feel my face grow hot for some reason.

Pansy stuck her nose up. "Of course he wouldn't; after all, we've been together since our fourth year," she declared arrogantly. And, as if to prove her point, she tugged at the front of my robes and locked her lips with mine in front of everybody.

Normally, I would've been ecstatic. She wouldn't even have to initiate the kissing. But right now, though, it seemed highly inappropriate.

I pushed her away. "What are you doing, Pansy?" I hissed angrily, my face burning of embarrassment.

She blinked innocently. "Kissing you," she stated, as if the answer were obvious.

"Couldn't we do this somewhere else?"

"We've kissed _everywhere_, Draco – in the common room, at my house, in front of your mom!" she said in disbelief. "And since when has our kissing ever been any issue to you?"


	8. Chapter 7: Hermione

CHAPTER 7: Hermione

"_The stolen glance is the oldest trick we know; yet, the most obvious sign of hidden attraction."_

* * *

I'd always known he was mental. Because, how could he have been so nice to me on the train one minute and be terribly nasty the next?

Come to think of it, I'd _almost_ fallen for his antics. Almost believed that he really had changed his previous ways. But what happened down at the dungeons was enough to prove me otherwise.

It wasn't in my intentions to do so, but I found my eyes wandering over to where the Slytherins sat eating dessert. And a sickening scene met my eyes.

I watched as pug-faced Parkinson snatched Malfoy's robes and gave him a sloppy kiss in front of the whole world to see.

_And I suppose the bloody bastard loves it_, I thought venomously. _He and his slutty girlfriend demonstrating their disgusting love for each other. How very indecent behavior for a Head Boy._

I quickly averted my gaze away before I could expel my insides of everything I'd eaten for dinner.

What did I care, though? They could suck on each other's face all they wanted and they wouldn't hear me say a single word about it.

But as I looked at my cinnamon roll sitting half-uneaten on my plate I realized that I had suddenly lost my appetite.

Sitting across from where I did, Harry's anger kept on flaring.

"He'd better not show his face," he kept on muttering, his hand grasping the edge of the table tightly. "He'd better hide somewhere I wouldn't see…"

I sighed.

I obviously knew Harry well enough to decide not to tell him that I'd known from the beginning who Headmaster was. He hadn't taken the news well – Ron had told me in a hushed voice that he'd gone into the broom closet and fired all the hexes he'd learned towards inanimate objects. Filch tried to put him in detention, but, well, let's just say that Filch wouldn't be walking for a long, long time.

He'd taken the news considerably better than what I had envisioned though – I'd seen him maybe jinxing the Hogwarts Express to take him back, or worse, challenging Snape to a one-on-one.

Ginny covered his hand with hers. "Harry, stop it. The entire table's shaking."

Harry's hand relaxed, but the anger never left his eyes. Ginny caught my eye and gave me a weak smile.

So much for a bright beginning of a new school year.

For the entire duration of the feast, the Headmaster never showed. It was Professor McGonagall who assumed his position, seeing as how she was Deputy Headmistress.

At last, when the dessert course too had ended, she stood from the center of the High Table, gave a few rules, and sent us all off to bed.

A loud scuffling came from all the students as they all got up from their seats and onto their feet. I had gotten up on my feet as well and stretched, ready to get into my four-poster at Gryffindor Tower for a good night's rest, when she had added one final rule:

"The Head Boy and Girl would have to patrol the entire school a half hour before midnight every night to make sure no late wanderers roam around."

The dismay must have been extremely evident on my face, because Ron shrugged and gave me a somewhat sheepish smile. "You probably would be so used to Malfoy by then that you wouldn't even notice time passing."

"Thanks a lot, Ronald," I said in sarcasm.

Just as soon as I had told him a while ago, Ron seemed to not be surprised at all that Malfoy had been chosen as Head Boy. "Of course," he'd said, "Snape would choose his favorite student. No mystery there."

Harry had been too overwhelmed in his emotions about Snape to really care about his archenemy somehow working with me now.

The enormity of the obligation set upon me was overpowering. Late at night and _every_ night? How could I ever have time to prepare for my N.E.W.T.s? I was the top witch in our year!

Screw Snape for choosing me. Screw McGonagall for not standing up for me. Screw Ron and his indifference towards the matter.

Screw Malfoy for having to work with me. And speaking of Malfoy…

Screw him and his effortless hair.

* * *

As soon as I'd gotten up to the Gryffindor Tower and into the dormitory I shared with Ginny I had almost a mind not to go out and perform my duty. If I didn't show up then maybe I'd get replaced instantly…

"You are _sooo_ lucky, Hermione. I am so jealous," said Parvati as she emptied her trunk and arranged the contents into a dresser drawer.

Lavender giggled.

My forehead wrinkled in consternation. "Jealous of what?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh, you know what," Parvati replied, as if the answer were obvious. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed! Come on, don't be shy; we're all girls here."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I turned around as I arranged my beauty products on the counter.

"_Dra-co Mal-foy_." She pronounced each syllable slowly and in an annoying singsong voice. "Quit denying, Hermione – your eyes were on him the whole time we were at the feast."

My whole face grew hot; I was thankful that I had my back turned on both her and Lavender and that Ginny hadn't come up yet. "Why would you be jealous of me because of the scumbag? He's unbearable, Parvati."

"Unbearably _hot_." Parvati made a weird sound. "That hair…"

"Those arms…" Lavender chimed in. They both giggled.

If I heard one more foolish babble about Malfoy I thought I was going to be sick.

Their giddy faces greeted me as soon as I turned around. "So he grew out his hair, and maybe lifted a few weights," I said as indifferently as I could. "Why would you still be jealous about me and him? It's not like we're together or anything."

"Sure you're not, but you'll still be with him. After all, he's Head Boy." Parvati sighed. "I'd give anything to be you… And roam around the school with him at night…"

"You can have it," I told her. "Unfortunately, I can't just give up my badge. And speaking of roaming around at night, I think I have to go," I added, glancing at my wristwatch and heading for the spiral staircase.

"Have fun, Hermione," I heard them say, accompanied by a long fit of giggles.

If I had to choose between them and Malfoy, I would gladly take Malfoy because, at least, I was too furious with him to take notice of anything else.

It was better than having Lavender and Parvati pointing out everything that I'd observed from the beginning.

That hair…

Those arms…

Broad shoulders…

With my face flaming and my mind swearing, I crossed the crowded common room and climbed out of the portrait hole.


	9. Chapter 8: Draco

CHAPTER 8: Draco

[A/N: There's some sort of "situation" that would happen at the end of this chapter, so if you are overly sensitive, I suggest that maybe you should just skip the entirelast part of this.]

* * *

"_Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?"_

_Face Down, _Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

* * *

I impatiently tapped my foot against the marbled floor and glanced at my wristwatch for probably the hundredth time. Where was that Mudblood? She was ten minutes late, for Pete's sake!

I was just about to go off and run the patrol myself when I heard hurried footsteps approaching.

"I'm here," she gasped out, hurrying towards where I stood and leaning heavily against the Hufflepuff hourglass. She wore a fluffy pink bathrobe and slippers. Not what I expected from someone like _Granger._

"You're late," I criticized, watching her double over and clutch at her sides. "If there's one thing I hate about people it's tardiness."

She actually found the strength to look up from her posture and glare at me. "And if there's one thing _I_ hate about people it's nastiness," she bit back.

"Hmph," was all I could say. "Let's finish this bloody chore – I want to sleep already." I turned my back on her and advanced towards the white marble staircase leading to the upper floors.

Granger was at my heels in an instant, and we began the first of our many nightly walks.

I raised my wand and chanted "_Lumos_," and she did the same.

The moonlight shining through the bars in the high windows created strange marks against the castle floors and walls. Resting people in the portraits reprimanded and glared at us as we passed by with our lit wands, and Granger was respectful enough to say _sorry_ to them. How pathetic. This girl has got to know that she, being a witch (although a Mudblood at that one), was in greater position than those dead folks.

All throughout the rest of the perambulation did we not find anything. What did McGonagall expect us to find except suits of armor and tapestry hangings? And who in their right minds would want to break a school rule at the first night?

I heard Granger yawn as we climbed up the moving staircase to the fifth floor. "Two floors left, and then it's bed for me," she mumbled indiscernibly.

Sure, that was easy for her to say. After all, the Gryffindor Tower was on the seventh floor. I had to go all the way down to the dungeons for _my_ bedtime!

And then I remembered that on the tapestry just behind the statue of a griffin right on the fifth floor was a secret passageway that led immediately down to the dungeons.

I quickly left as we passed by it without any forewarning.

"Wait! Where are you going?!" I heard her exclaim in surprise as I got behind the statue and ripped the tapestry, boosting myself up on the waist-high secret passage.

"Going to bed," I said tiredly, climbing up successfully. I didn't have much strength to be nasty.

"But we haven't done – Malfoy!"

I made my way towards the downward slope of the passageway, not noticing that she had followed me until I heard her stumble and fall.

She must've been extremely close behind, because as I turned around on instinct she fell right on top of me. The impact might not have been extremely strong, but seeing as how I was taken by surprise and sleep-deprived, it was enough to make my knees buckle and fall.

My mind went entirely blank.

I landed hard on my back with her weight upon me the entire time. Our faces, which were scant inches apart, mirrored each other's shock and speechlessness. Her hands held onto the front of my robe tightly and I felt her warm breath upon my lips.

Her color deepened considerably.

"Sorry," she mumbled, almost stumbling again as she scrambled to get off me.

As soon as the unanticipated intimacy left my mind I got onto my feet and became even nastier than before.

"What are you playing at?" I demanded angrily. "And why did you even follow me here?"

She tried to match my anger but the blush never completely left her cheeks. "Because, if you haven't noticed, we haven't done the last two floors of the castle!"

"Good riddance to that! I'm exhausted." I stomped away from her.

"I thought you wanted to be Head Boy, Malfoy," she jeered. "Where's your backbone now?"

Her insults, coupled with the fact that I was dog-tired and angry, did not put my perspective in the best sense. Turning around, I threatened, "Shut up or I'll hex you, Mudblood," while drawing out my wand and pointing it at her.

"Why don't you," she taunted, raising her own wand up, "if you really can?"

"I can make you do anything I want," I growled.

"Really? Because I can't see it ever happening."

"You know what? You're supposed to be begging for my mercy."

"I'm wait-ing," was her reply in an ominous singsong voice.

My eyes narrowed darkly as I formulated which spells to release on her, but decided against it. I knew I couldn't win, if I were being honest. She was far too good with spells.

But I knew a trick that would aggravate her further. Something that would reduce her to a crying mess. I were to cheat, I know, but…

My resolve strengthened as I threw my wand over my shoulder and closed that distance between us, crushing her against the cold stone wall.

"What are you –" she gasped out, but I forced my mouth to hers to silence her.

Only her inconsequential squeaks made the only sound as I relished her mouth harshly, deeply thrusting my tongue inside. Hmm, not bad for a Mudblood. Wonder how many mouths this has tasted. Maybe that weasel's. Or maybe none at all.

I smiled internally as I realized that I might have stolen her first kiss. And she wasn't even enjoying herself.

I groped around and found the wand that was held tightly into a fist and tugged at it, throwing it into the distance. And let that same hand travel up and down her body, touching her in places normally forbidden.

She might've been struggling against me for all I knew, but her feeble strength wasn't nearly enough to push me off her.

"You shouldn't have ridiculed me, Mudblood," I mocked cruelly, letting my tongue ravish her earlobe.

She whimpered helplessly, her hysterical sobs almost making the words indiscernible. "Don't, Malfoy. Please…"

My traveling hand went _there_. "I told you I could make you do anything I wanted."

"Don't do this," she cried out.

"_And_ I told you I would have you begging for mercy."

A loud sob escaped her parted lips.

"You should've listened to me."

"I'm sor-_ry_," she gasped out, her voice cracking.

I pushed her even tighter against the wall, so that she felt every inch of my body. "Now what do I do with you?" I asked myself dramatically. "I suppose if I raped you Pansy'd kill me, but if I didn't, you'd go around acting all mighty just like you did with me a while ago…"

"I won't anymore, I promise! Please, Malfoy…"

"I believe Pansy wouldn't find out if you don't tell her," I mused.

She wept even louder. "Please don't do it. Please don't. I'm _begging_ you."

I pretended to think about it and grunted. "I don't want to be _inside_ a disgusting Mudblood anyway, no matter what the situation is. If you know what I mean," I smirked, pulling myself away.

No sooner had I released her from the wall that she looked up at me with hate and revulsion clearly in her tear-filled eyes as her entire frame shook.

She raised a hand and slapped my cheek with probably as much force as she could muster. My skin grew hot where it had made contact.

"You disgust me," she spat out, running back towards the secret passageway where she had come, her sobs echoing against the enclosed area.

* * *

[A/N: Okay, you guys probably hate me and Draco for this chapter. Remember what I mentioned in a previous A/N that things would get better? Apparently not until much later in the story.

Did you love or hate the chapter? Please review! –Nina]


	10. Chapter 9: Hermione

CHAPTER 9: Hermione

Blindly, I made my way out of the passage I'd sworn never to walk into again.

My thoughts were indiscernible, but my feelings made themselves clear. I felt unworthy of anyone then. I felt that I wouldn't ever see myself as whom I had been before…

My sobs uncontrollably shook me. How could he, that _bastard… _When I never did anything that could warrant that sort of reaction from him…

_Look on the brighter side, Hermione_, my mind stated. _It could've been worse_.

No, it couldn't be any worse. I let Malfoy walk all over me and this is what I got.

I stumbled along the dark corridors and fell on my feet numerous times, even knocking over one suit of armor. If I hadn't been Head Girl, I would've already been caught wandering around at night because of the noise I was making. My thoughts were still filled with the image of Malfoy's wicked grin. _"I suppose if I raped you Pansy'd kill me…"_

I pushed my fist against my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

Where was that dratted staircase? Wasn't I supposed to have come across it by now?

But no matter how far I ran, how fast I tried to get away from the passage, the marble staircase never showed.

I had to get away from there; I had to get away from Malfoy…

Yet again, I tripped over my own feet and fell flat on my face, but at that moment, I found I didn't have the strength to stand up.

I saw Malfoy's face through my closed lids. I felt Malfoy's harsh tongue thrusting inside my mouth. I felt Malfoy's hands embedded forever against my skin…

"_You shouldn't have ridiculed me, Mudblood…"_

Make…

"_I can make you do anything I want…"_

… it…

"… _begging for mercy…"_

... stop.

I curled into a tight ball with my hands over my ears and tried to block all thoughts from my head.

* * *

I didn't know how much time had passed then. Maybe a few minutes. Maybe a few hours. Or maybe none at all. But I found myself being shaken from where I lay on the floor. A warm hand touched my shoulder and gently shook me.

"Hello," the voice called softly.

_He's back. He came back to finish me off._

I abruptly got up and braced myself; the sunlight shining high on the windows blinded me as soon as I opened my eyes. Luna's face greeted me with a kind smile.

"I thought I recognized you, Hermione," she said serenely, her face tilting to one side. "You slept here last night?"

I blinked fiercely, then nodded. When I opened my mouth to reply, no sound came from it. I cleared my throat. "Y-yes, something like that," I stammered.

"Yes, sometimes I do that, too," she replied, reaching out an arm to help me get up. "The people in the portraits sometimes come and sing to me as well. It's loads better than having to sleep in a dormitory where your roommate doesn't even speak to you."

"Thank you, Luna." I brushed dust off my robe. "Am I late for class?"

"Oh, no, it's only seven in the morning. I was on my way to the Great Hall for breakfast when I saw you curled up here. You must've been having a nightmare. You kept saying _don't_."

"I was," I admitted, trying to control the fact that I was about to burst into tears again.

"You want to know how I prevent nightmares from visiting me?" Her misty eyes grew even larger.

"How?"

"I wear this to bed every night." She got out a weird-looking green pendant shaped like an inverted crescent moon on a simple chain from the inside of her robes. "Father gave this to me – but I think you need it more than I do."

She looped the necklace around my neck. "There. Now you can be as protected as I am."

"Thanks."

"I'll go now for some breakfast." She gave a little wave and loped off, but before she could leave she turned around abruptly.

"And, oh, you dropped your wand, Hermione, when you got up a while ago. I didn't think you noticed."

Sure enough, when I looked down my wand lay there on the castle floor.

I made my way to the dormitory without encountering any questions from Harry, Ron, Ginny, or the Gossiping Duo. I dressed myself quickly and, for the first time, truly looked at myself in the mirror.

Despite what I felt inside and what had happened to me last night, there seemed to be no change in my physical appearance.

_But I look terrible_, I admitted to myself. There were dark circles under my eyes and my hair seemed unrulier than before.

_Nothing that a little grooming wouldn't fix_. I quickly dabbed on some concealer underneath my eyes and fixed my curly hair up into a ponytail.

My resolve kept repeating itself in my mind. I will not speak of last night to anyone else. It will be a secret forever kept hidden inside me.

_Inside me and Malfoy, that is_, I thought bitterly. So much for secrecy.

I made my way down to the common room to find Ron dutifully waiting for me on one of the armchairs.

"Sorry I couldn't wait for you last night," he said as I drew nearer. "Right after my head touched the pillow it was morning already."

I nodded, forcing a smile on my face. "It's okay."

"So how was it with Malfoy last night?"

I couldn't bear hearing his name spoken out loud. I swallowed forcefully, trying to keep the emotions contained within myself.

"H-he was… the same, as usual." That wasn't exactly a lie.

"Did he give you a hard time?"

"I'm used to him being so nasty." I laughed nervously. "By the way, where are Harry and Ginny?" I asked quickly, trying to change the subject. I couldn't bear talking about him anymore.

"They've gone down for breakfast already. I wanted to wait for you."

"I'm sorry you had to wait. Let's go."

He took my hand gently, and as he led me out the common room, I felt considerably better.


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

[A/N: This is the first chapter to have a POV merger. The first half is Draco's; the next, Hermione's.]

* * *

Draco

"What do you mean, you raped her?!" he bellowed angrily.

It was a night after I had a taste of Hermione Granger. Father physically wasn't with me, but it would've been better if he had been.

"I didn't rape her, I just kissed her," I reasoned out. "And did some other stuff." I didn't know why, but I felt embarrassed going into detail with him.

"Why the hell would you risk your job?!"

"She was getting me angry!" I forced myself not to shout. It was too risky; using the Floo Network inside the school (and definitely the common room) was prohibited and I might wake somebody up.

"You might as well throw yourself out the window and kiss your bloody ass goodbye," he reprimanded, the veins in his temple popping out.

"Shush, Lucius," Mum told him. "Why would you do that, Drake?" she asked me somewhat calmer than Father did, but I knew she was upset with me, too. "You could've done something else. I thought you didn't want to kiss the Mudblood."

"I couldn't think of any better way to shut her up, Mum."

"How the hell do we get that Potter now?" Father demanded.

"There's got to be another way – one that does not require me and the Mudblood having to be together." I cringed at the thought.

"Any bright ideas?" Father asked me sarcastically.

It took me a moment to think, but…

"Because he doesn't_ trust_ you, that's why!" he spat out. "If you get his best friend to trust you then he as good as trusts you, too. That's why you have to have the Mudblood fall for you."

If I hadn't been in front of my parents, I would've spat out and cussed in disbelief.

"And now how are you going to achieve that with the racket you've been making?!"

I let out a silent "Ugh!" in disbelief.

"I'll think of something," I said more in defeat than actually meaning it. I put on a note of panic in my face. "I think I hear someone coming," I fibbed quickly. "I've got to go. Bye –"

I climbed quickly out of the fireplace and watched as the embers died down.

"_Make the Mudblood fall for you_," I mocked. "If it had been anyone_ but_ Granger…"

I glanced down at my robe.

"Ugh," I said in disgust as I tried to dust the powder off my expensive emerald green robe. I shook my long hair out, too, and realized that not only was my robe soiled, but so was I.

_I need a bath_, I thought to myself as I climbed out of the portrait hole.

I made my way towards the special bathroom that Snape had mentioned to me and Granger a few days ago. Where was it again? At the fourth floor, wasn't it? Behind the emerald green tapestry…

I ripped the tapestry apart as I located it and found a knob-less silver door behind it with a large letter _H_. I tried to push it, but it was tightly shut.

"Uh, Sixty-six Sickles?" I said, feeling somewhat foolish.

The door melted away to reveal a long flight of stairs, and as I climbed my way up it the door behind me reappeared as suddenly as it had gone.

If the Prefects' bathroom I had used on my fifth year had been majestic, it was nothing compared to the bathroom that greeted me as soon as I stepped inside. The bathroom was octagon-shaped, with the floor and walls being made of gold-colored marble. From the large windows, the moonlight shone brightly on the Olympic-sized bathtub made undeniably of ivory. It sort of resembled one of those Muggle… what did you call those? Jacuzzis? And on one of the high windows was a large stained-glass picture of a merman. Right now, though, he seemed to be asleep.

"Sweet." I was used to the fancy living, but I hadn't experienced anything like this.

I knelt and twisted one of the two knobs on the tub. Hot water sprouted from it. The other one released cold water.

Uh, how was I to get the bubble bath?

I looked up. What had seemed to be the chandelier to me just a while ago turned out to be many spouts directly overhead the bathtub. Maybe I had to use a spell to get them to work and release the bubble bath.

I raised my wand and prepared for a spell when the merman suddenly spoke.

"Just mention which scent you would have them release, Head Boy," his booming voice said, obviously irritated from having been woken up from his slumber.

I followed his instruction and dropped my wand. "Peppermint!" I called out, and the spouts immediately released a white, foamy liquid.

Grinning, I stripped myself of my clothes and got inside the tub, immediately forgetting about the row which I'd just had with Father.

* * *

Hermione

"Are you sure you're okay, Hermione?" Ginny whispered into my ear, dropping her voice so only I could hear her.

I was immediately brought out of my reverie. "What do you mean?" I said as enthusiastically as I could. "Of course I'm okay."

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

I reddened. "I have no reason to lie to you, Ginny, about anything."

She didn't quite buy that. She still looked at me suspiciously, but decided to drop it.

Okay, I have officially got to learn to lie better.

For probably the millionth time in three days, I forced my eyes not to look at the Slytherin Table. What would you want to look at_ him_ for, anyway? my mind scolded. He's done nothing but ruin you and your life.

That part was true. But I knew I couldn't help but want to patch things up between us. Why? Because I suddenly admitted to myself that I no longer was angry with him.

For reasons unbeknownst to myself. For reasons I failed to see logic in.

It was stupid, it was irrational; but I knew I couldn't keep lying to myself anymore.

For the past three nights of Head duties, we'd made no eye contact or anything that signified that we were aware that each other existed. We simply patrolled the dark school in silence, and as soon as we finished, we simply went on our own separate ways.

I didn't know what was worse. Having his nasty mood present or having him believe that I didn't exist.

For some strange reason, I didn't like the sound of that last part somewhat more.

As for what had happened that night, neither of us mentioned anything about it. I never showed any sign of bitterness towards him and he never showed any signs of feeling sorry about it. It was as though that night never occurred.

And I knew – no, I was _positive_ – that it had been he who had returned my wand back – who else would it be? – but why would he even bother? Had he been on some kind of guilt trip and wanted to do something nice for me after what he had done?

Thinking about it gave me a headache, though, so I stopped.

The loud rustling from the owls swooping overhead for the daily mail interrupted the humdrum of students eating breakfast.

A handsome barn owl dropped my fresh edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and lifted his leg to reveal a small satchel. I immediately paid him 5 Knuts, let him nibble on a little piece of my toast, and sent him off.

MINISTER OF MAGIC, DEAD, the headline read in bold letters as soon as I unfolded the paper. Ice flooded me. I quickly scanned the article to get the gist of it.

Rufus Scrimgeour had been found dead at his office just the previous night, and just as the contract stated, he was to be replaced immediately by none other than the vice-minister himself, Pius Thicknesse. _Thicknesse._ But he was…

"A Death Eater, yes," Harry said darkly, as if reading my thoughts. He was reading the paper over my shoulder.

"But if he's Minister, then that means…"

"The Ministry is under Voldemort's control," he finished.


	12. Chapter 11: Hermione

CHAPTER 11: Hermione

Panting, I made my way towards our nightly meeting place in front of the house points hourglasses. However, when I got there, Malfoy was nowhere to be found.

I looked around frantically. Was I early? Or was Malfoy_ late_?

I couldn't believe that. I was the one always late. Malfoy was never!

Regardless, I couldn't keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control. What if he got in trouble? What if he was sick? What if…

_Hold your horses, Granger_, my mind scolded. _You should wait a few more minutes before panicking_.

I paced around impatiently, waiting for him to arrive. Only one lousy minute had passed, but it felt as though I had been waiting forever.

"I'm just going to go check on him," I told to no one in particular. But where should I start? He could be anywhere, for Pete's sake!

A voice that sounded from behind me made me jump. "Why, is your boyfriend late for your nightly rendezvous?"

I turned around sharply. It was a portly man in an old-fashioned wig and ruff talking to me from one of the portraits.

"H-he's not my boyfriend," I answered, blushing at the word _boyfriend_. "We're Head Boy and Girl; we need to check the school every night."

"He could be, you know," he mused knowingly. "I've been around long enough, dear, to know what a man is thinking about behind his tough exterior."

"Well, it's different between us. Besides, he's got his girlfriend, and I have mine."

"One of these days, don't make me say I told you so."

I laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "Okay, _All-Knowing Man_, where do you think I can find him? We're late, and I have a paper due tomorrow that I haven't finished yet."

He made a comical imitation of a psychic closing his eyes and meditating. "Try looking for him somewhere near his House. I'm sure he's there. Although I'm also sure that you wouldn't feel too pleased to see him by then."

"Wonder why." I grinned. "Thank you, sir."

"You're a nice girl. Be sure to keep in touch."

"Good night." I gave a little wave and made my way to the dungeons, where I knew the Slytherin House resided.

Chills ran up and down my spine as I made my way down the cobbled stone steps. Ron had told me before that the Slytherin House was just behind some sort of serpent thing. I kept my lit wand in front of me and squinted for any sort of life form.

It finally dawned on me that he might not even be here. After all, I'd just taken advice from someone who'd said that Malfoy and I would be _together _sometime in the future.

Eager to get away from the freezing temperature, I made my way back to where I had come from.

Out of nowhere, soft moans sounded. It seemed to come from somewhere inside the room directly on my right, and had it been that I wasn't Harry Potter's friend, I might have turned away from the sound and ignored it.

But I was, and his infectious curiosity took the better of me.

"Not happening, Drake," I heard someone say softly, accompanied by a sigh.

So he _was_ here, I thought to myself. My heart thundering, I approached the door and found it slightly ajar, but I couldn't make out anything from the minute slit. The sighs and moans seemed to be growing louder. I reached out a hand and, praying that it wouldn't creak and that they wouldn't hear, pushed the door to form a slightly bigger crack so that I could see better.

It looked like an unused warehouse of some sort. I pressed my face nearer the crack and peeked through it.

I could make out the shapes clearly, thanks to the full moon shining directly outside the solitary window.

Malfoy, with his chest bare, was necking a girl whose thick, dark hair told me she was Pansy. She was perched atop a large wooden crate, her arms and legs wrapped around Malfoy's body, and she was clothed rather haphazardly.

"Why not?" Malfoy cooed, claiming her lips.

I swallowed.

If this had been anything at all like the time he kissed me, had it not been forced, I knew I would've enjoyed myself. I watched him in awe as he worked his lips around hers expertly, how he was able to put Pansy in submission.

Viktor had been a shy kisser. And Cormac rather sloppy. As for Ron – well, Ron had never actually kissed me.

I suddenly felt guilty, comparing his technique to the ones I'd experienced.

_Stop looking at them, Hermione!_ my mind screamed.

"Stop it, Draco," Pansy said breathlessly, pushing him away. I was surprised that she even had the resolve to make him stop. "I told you, it's not happening."

Malfoy seemed not to hear anything. His lips continued its journey from her face down to her neck.

"Get _off_ me!" she half-screamed, and when he didn't, she gave him a great shove and a huge slap whose impact I heard way over here.

He massaged his abused cheek. "You little tease," he said darkly, and advanced on her once again.

But Pansy was faster. She raised her wand and pointed it at Malfoy's face. "You touch me again and I'll curse you," she threatened.

Malfoy shook his head in disbelief and spat on the floor. Donning his plain white shirt, he made his way towards the door, cussing angrily under his breath.

Oh no.

Backing away, I looked around in alarm and quickly ducked behind a small statue of a dragon, pressing my palm against my mouth just in case I made any unnecessary sound.

Malfoy came out the door, his hair disheveled, and made his way to the castle. Shortly after he left, out came Pansy and went the opposite way. I waited for a few moments before I eased myself from my crouching position and crept slowly back towards the castle.

A hand suddenly came up from behind me and covered my mouth, leading me back into the room which I'd spied on just minutes ago.

Malfoy pushed me against the wall, his hand still pressed firmly over my mouth. I squeaked in protest.

"Shut up!" he hissed. I tried to stop myself. What if what he hadn't been able to achieve on Pansy, he'd do to me?

He seemed to be waiting for something. Finally, Pansy's voice floated through the dungeons.

"Poisoned sting," she drawled, and then came the sound of marble moving. And then at last, silence.

Malfoy rounded on me.

"You saw that, didn't you?" he demanded angrily, his teeth clenched.

With my eyes wide, I shook my head fiercely. I wanted to say something, anything, but his hand was still clamped tightly over my face.

"You know what? For someone so smart, you suck at lying."

_You stupid Mudblood!_ I scolded myself. I rarely, if ever, used the word Mudblood upon myself. This night was an exception. _You should've left earlier, when you had the chance!_

"Why would you settle for vicarious fulfillment?" Malfoy went on.

I shook my head. I didn't see_ anything_, I wanted to say.

"You saw what happened. You saw that I didn't get what I wanted."

Oh no. This sex-crazed boy wanted to unleash his full force upon me.

I remembered that I had my wand gripped tightly inside my hand. I could do with a few quick nonverbal spells…

However, he must've read my expression, because he suddenly ran his other hand down my arm and yanked my wand from me, throwing it somewhere at the back of the room.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Maybe I shouldn't have given that back to you." He said with a hint of mockery. "Now, where was I?" He answered his own question. "Oh, yes…"

He grinned evilly. "You're a girl. Maybe you can help me out."


	13. Chapter 12: Draco

CHAPTER 12: Draco

"_Not even a Vanishing Spell could make those feelings disappear, Mr. Malfoy."_

* * *

_This stupid Mudblood just keeps popping up everywhere._

I was slightly enjoying myself as I watched her cringing and visibly panicking under my hands. Her eyes grew wide as the enormity of my proposal hit her.

_You would even consider _that_? Are you out of your freaking mind?_ I asked myself incredulously_. You don't want her. She's a Mudblood._

Sure I did. She was still a girl.

But as I leaned in and prepared to give her a ferocious kiss, Father's voice somehow seemed to reverberate around the room.

"_You touch that girl inappropriately one more time, I will personally make sure you are cut out from the Malfoy family tree forever, and I _mean_ it."_

"Ugh!" I said in frustration to particularly no one, and dropped my hands from her.

Granger's eyes, which were wide with panic just moments ago, now registered shock from what I'd done. Her entire body shook, and her knees buckled and gave way. She slumped down to the floor.

Without any warning, I made my way out the wooden door.

* * *

It's not forever, I reassured myself. Just for a few days. A few weeks, maximum. Just be nice to her, and Father will be proud of you.

Ugh, who was I kidding? A few weeks weren't nearly enough to make her forget everything that I'd done with her over the past week. I didn't think she would even buy the nice guy act at all, regardless!

"Just be yourself," came a voice from behind me.

I turned around and came face-to-face with a fat, ugly man wearing a wig in an old portrait.

"Excuse me?" I asked rudely.

The man showed no sign of him being aware of my rudeness. He even grinned, showing one gold tooth. "You are nervous about talking to the Head Girl," he said.

I didn't answer him. I didn't think _nervous_ was the right word.

"Women like it when you're honest," he continued.

"What do you know about women, you primeval man?" I countered.

"That is no way to talk to him!" Granger suddenly exclaimed from behind me. I almost jumped.

She rushed towards me. "Sorry about that," she apologized to the painting. "I don't think politeness is a word familiar to him."

The painting chuckled. "No worries, Hermione."

Great. Now they were on first-name basis?

"We're going to go off now. Hope you have a good night, Sir Harris."

Charming, I thought sarcastically.

As soon as the man left to goodness-knows-where, she immediately rounded on me. "You should really learn how to respect your elders, Malfoy, you know that?" she reprimanded, her eyes narrowing slightly.

_When you feel like hexing the Mudblood, imagine that you're talking to Pansy._

I took a deep breath and tried to do what I'd chanted to myself over and over while I was on my way here.

I forced a smile on my lips. "Maybe you could try to teach me."

Her mouth hung open. "Teach _you_ politeness?"

"Sure. After all, you've always been going on and on about how impolite I am, so I suggest that maybe you should teach me the mechanics about being _un_-impolite."

She looked at me suspiciously. "Are you okay?"

Okay, so that was what she thought of me? If I tried to be polite, I was _un_-okay?!

I waved that thought off. "Never mind," I said to both her and my thoughts.

I could feel Granger's confusion as we made our way around the deserted school. That was a good start on my part, wasn't it? I just needed to remember how I'd executed my acting while we were on the train on the way over here, and I was good.

I asked her about how her school work was coming along, and she gave me somewhat vague answers. At least she wasn't shooting daggers at me with her looks. And when we'd arrived at the fifth floor, I decided on doing something gutsy.

As soon as we reached the griffin with the secret passageway behind it again, I ripped open the tapestry and pulled her inside before she could protest.

I positioned her against the wall, planting my hands on either side of her so she was trapped.

Her breathing came out ragged. "I knew it," she gasped out. "Pansy didn't – and you're going to –"

"I'm not here to do whatever it is that you think I'm going to," I said, leaning in so that my nose touched her skin and letting the words come out in a rush. As soon as I said them I realized I wasn't lying at all.

Hmm. She smelled sweet, so unlike how Pansy often did.

"Then why are we here?" she choked out, her warm breath spreading over my face.

With her heady aroma embedded in my nostrils, I said, "I want to apologize for what had happened."

She didn't say anything.

"I saw your reaction every time we passed by here. You never said anything, but I could see panic. No, I could _feel_ it." Everything I'd said was an entire truth. "I don't want you to feel traumatized about this place, nor do I want you to feel scared whenever you're with me. I promised you we would have a cordial relationship, but it seems I haven't been able to keep my part of the deal. I'm sorry."

"Why are you standing so close?"

"So you have no reason not to look at me and say that I'm lying."

Her lower lip trembled, but she managed to look into my eyes bravely.

Her chocolate brown eyes held questions – too much questions. But I had only one question that needed to be answered.

"Was I your first?" I whispered. It was a question that had been on my mind a lot lately.

I knew it wasn't any of my business to know, and it wasn't part of the plan to inquire about her personal life, but an irrational, _selfish_ part of me wanted to be certain that I was her first. It made me angry to think that someone _else_ had tasted these full lips…

"My first what?" she asked almost inaudibly.

"Your first kiss."

She reddened noticeably. "What's it to you?"

_Yes, Draco, what's it to you?_ my mind asked sensibly. But…

"It's haunting me to know whether I'd stolen it from you or not."

She seemed to consider telling me for a while, and shook her head. "No."

It wasn't relief that coursed through me when I found out that I hadn't stolen the kiss from her, but pure, _ridiculous_ jealousy. It pooled inside of me and raged in the pit of my stomach. "Then who? The weasel?"

She cringed at my nickname for her boyfriend. "No."

"Who, then?" I asked in frustration.

"Viktor."

My eyebrows wrinkled.

"Krum."

A duck-footed, round-shouldered, heavy-browed image came into my mind. The _hell_ to that Bulgarian Quidditch player! I can't believe it. He might be popular, but I knew I was better-looking than he was.

"And did you like the kiss?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I think that topic is way off limits to you."

"I just wanted to know, because I don't think you enjoyed ours too much." Did I actually just say that?

"It's never enjoyable if it's forced," was her reply.

"I know. That's why…"

I leaned in and closed that small distance between our lips, giving her what should have been our first kiss if only I weren't so angry with her then.

She gasped when our lips made contact, her body stiffening.

Slowly, softly, I explored her mouth, barely going any deeper. I cupped her pretty face between my hands and held her head there, just where I wanted it to be.

But before the kiss could go any further, I pulled myself away and looked into her eyes now wide with wonder.

"I'm sorry, but that should've been our first kiss." I smiled at her. "Good night, Head Girl."

I quickly left before I had a chance to regret or _enjoy_ what I'd done.

Because, if I had to be honest, kissing the girl was important, but it hadn't been necessary. Father'd said that I was to do whatever I needed to, but he hadn't specified on kissing her. The kiss was just something to make things seem more realistic for her, and to make her not suspect anything about what my family had planned on from the beginning.

It wasn't what I'd planned on doing tonight, either, and yet I did it. _I had reason, though, _I quickly appeased myself. Father would be so proud of me once he'd found out that I hadn't forced her to do it with me, and that it flowed naturally. I'd even tell him that she was beginning to trust me.

I'd tell him kissing her had been the plan. _My_ plan.

But what I couldn't tell him was the part on which I'd enjoyed it.

In fact, if I hadn't pulled away immediately, that kiss would've turned out to be much more, and I would've been left with the biggest mistake of my life.


	14. Chapter 13: Hermione

CHAPTER 13: Hermione

I found it hard to concentrate on my breathing that very moment, but not because of fear.

Malfoy's lips moved against mine, but it was nothing compared to how he'd done so a few days ago. He was soft and gentle, and very, very sweet.

Pansy was so lucky.

He cupped my face between his warm hands and my heartbeat went up a few octaves.

_What are you doing, Hermione?! Why aren't you stopping this?_

But before I could even resolve to do so, he pulled away on his own. I tried to keep the dismay from showing on my face.

With a look somewhat similar to mine, he said, "I'm sorry, but that should've been our first kiss." He smiled down at me. "Good night, Head Girl."

And with that, he quickly left without any further warning.

I stood rooted to the spot, my mind reeling with heady thoughts. Draco Malfoy just apologized to me and kissed me on one night.

_Draco Malfoy._

I'd always thought women were the fickle ones. They were the ones who constantly changed their minds and switched moods. I hadn't expected that Malfoy would have this side to him, or that he could suddenly morph from someone so horrid to someone, well, fairly lovely.

"_Are you sure that wasn't someone on Polyjuice only pretending to be Malfoy?" _I remembered Ginny asking me on the train.

That seemed to be a logical explanation, I thought to myself as I made my way back outside the shortcut and to the Gryffindor Tower. But I wished deep down in my heart of hearts that she was wrong.

* * *

Thanks to the newfound cordial relationship I'd had with Draco – no, scrap that – with _Malfoy_, I found the nighttime travels around the school actually something to look forward to. I noted how his hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, and how it made him look as though he had a halo atop his head. His fingers were long and lean and graceful as he gripped his wand in front of him, and his bottom lip was slightly fuller than the upper one.

I blushed at the thought of his lips. His kiss still lingered upon my own, whether I liked it or not.

Soon October came, and Quidditch season was fast approaching.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny practiced three times a week during the evening, which left me with no company other than Lavender and Parvati, who both seemed to have ESP and somehow knew that something had changed or was different between me and D – Malfoy.

"So, how are you and Draco coming along?" asked Parvati one night as we sat in front of the fireplace at the common room doing our Potions homework. I hadn't been feeling well earlier today, and Malfoy had been kind enough to let me rest for the night while he did the patrolling himself. Now, however, I wished I'd gone with him.

I buried my face in my copy of _A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. "What do you mean?" I asked as coolly as possible.

"Have you two been to the next level? What?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Lavender, can you hand me that bottle of ink?"

Parvati reached over and gave it to me. "Has there been any kissing now? What? Come _on_, Hermione."

Against my better judgment, the word _kissing_ brought a fresh wave of reddening across my cheeks, and it wasn't from the fever.

Parvati gave an exaggerated gasp. "What! Was he a good kisser?" she exclaimed, her voice going an octave higher.

"I never said yes!"

Parvati waved me off. "Oh, honey, your eyes speak volumes."

I let my eyes trail towards Lavender's. She didn't look as giddy as Parvati did; rather, there was some sort of confusion in her eyes.

I knew what she was thinking about. _Ron_. Guilt made my already-flushed cheeks even rosier.

"So, what was it like?" Parvati continued, egging me on.

I let my eyes bore into Lavender's as I spoke, making her believe every word I said. "I never wanted it to happen; _he_ kissed me."

Parvati seemed to sense the unspoken connection between me and Lavender as she looked back and forth between us. Realization dawned on her. "Oh," she let out softly.

"Well," she went on, "I don't know why any one person would choose Ron over Draco, I mean." She made _Ron_ sound like a dirty word. "Draco is smart, handsome, _rich_ – absolutely everything any girl could ever want. And Ron is, well, he's _just_ Ron."

I narrowed my eyes angrily at Parvati. "Well, _just Ron_ happens to be my boyfriend, so you'd better quit belittling him."

Parvati shrugged, ignoring my words, and went back to doing her paper.

But my anger was short-lived as soon as I saw Lavender's disappointment clearly on her face.

* * *

[A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I don't exactly know why, but I find writing Draco's POV a lot easier than Hermione's. Perhaps you've never noticed, but his chapters are somewhat longer than hers most of the time. Maybe it's because I have a bit more Draco in me than I have Hermione. Ha, ha, ha! –Nina]


	15. Chapter 14: Hermione

CHAPTER 14: Hermione

It wasn't what I'd expected at all, what with the Ministry being under Voldemort's control and the entire wizarding world at his reign, but Hogwarts seemed to be as safe as it had been while Dumbledore had been alive. Although not having seen Snape since he'd first assigned me as Head Girl, it seemed as though he'd left some sort of protective enchantment around the entire school that kept us from being under attack by Death Eaters.

Harry seemed to feel the same way, too. He appeared considerably more at home than he did the first few weeks, and seemed to feel even excited about the first Quidditch match of the season looming around the corner – Gryffindor versus Slytherin. It was hard not to feel excited, he'd said, since it was his last season of playing for Gryffindor, as we were all graduating at the end of the year.

Ron was his usual anxious mess, and Ginny, who played Chaser, exuded casual indifference.

The morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match dawned bright but very cold. The whole school was abuzz with the excitement for the game, with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs telling Harry to break a leg, while Slytherins threatened him they would really break his leg. Ron wasn't present at all for breakfast and was rumored to be puking his guts out at the nearby boys' bathroom. Dean Thomas, a fellow Gryffindor seventh-year, was an exclusive witness.

Neville, Luna (in her roaring Gryffindor lion hat), and I made our way to the Quidditch pitch, with seats fifty feet high. Luna had been commentator for the season the previous year, but they had her replaced – she was constantly talking about things not really related to the game. Seamus Finnigan had taken her job.

Personally, I didn't know what the fuss of Quidditch was all about. Sure, it was great if your team won, but why bother watching it? What was so exciting about players on their broomsticks throwing who-knows-what in the air?

I had a ton of paperwork to finish, and if it weren't for the fact that Harry, Ron, and Ginny would be playing, I wouldn't have bothered to come and watch.

_Or maybe it isn't about Harry, Ron, and Ginny at all. Maybe it's the Slytherin Seeker I was most anxious to see._

Oh, shut up, I said to myself.

The players (who looked like moving green and scarlet fabric from where we sat) assembled in the middle, and soared high into the air. Madam Hooch raised the whistle to her lips and blew.

The game started.

I quickly put the binoculars up to my eyes and scanned the players. I pretended to look for Harry, Ron, and Ginny to appease myself that it hadn't been Dra – Malfoy I was looking for, and after making sure that the three of them were okay, I scanned the players in green.

Malfoy – no, that was Crabbe – no, that was Rowle – no, that was Bulstrode – yes! The Slytherin Seeker (it said so on the back of his green robes) flashed past my vision.

But, wait. Wasn't that _Zabini_? Why was Zabini wearing the Seeker's robes?

Was Malfoy sick? Had he been injured? Why wasn't he at the game? He'd seemed fine last night!

I scanned the spectators at the Slytherin stand quickly. Maybe he sat this one game out… Just to give chance for others to play…

But right next to his girlfriend Parkinson was another seventh-year Slytherin girl named Tracey Davis, and Malfoy wasn't with them.

I abruptly stood up. Luna and Neville turned to look at me.

"Er, I forgot something from the common room," I quickly fibbed. "Save this seat for me, alright? I'll be back."

"Do you need me to go with you?" Neville offered.

"No, thank you, Neville." I smiled at him and went on my way.

I hated leaving the stands while they were packed with people. People jostled me as I made my way past them, and twice I almost got knocked over. I straightened my scarf as soon as I got away from people and made my way out of the pitch.

Why was I even bothering to look for him? So what if he wasn't present during the game? What's it to me?

But even though these thoughts repeated themselves in my head, I couldn't keep my feet from moving onward.

The school grounds were deserted, not one soul in sight. I made my way through the grassy lawns and towards the school. A tall figure in my peripheral vision caught my eye.

Sure enough, it was Malfoy. He was at the lake opposite the Quidditch pitch, underneath the largest tree that resided there. He seemed not to notice me, though, for he was busy throwing stones into the water. The stones disturbed the glassy surface of the water.

Feeling a sense of strange relief that nothing had happened to him, I made my way towards him.

He turned around as he saw me approaching and grinned, showing his signature dimples.

"Speaking of Muggles," he said casually. "I was looking at this small black box in a window inside a Muggle shop one time while I was out with Mother, and it had these moving pictures inside it. One Muggle boy was throwing stones into the water, and I don't know how he kept them from sinking. They were skipping through the water. I can't do it, though, not without magic."

For some strange reason, it wasn't offensive when he said "Muggles." He was just being… honest.

"That's called a TV." I took the stones from his hands and tsked, dropping them to the ground. "And you have to have flat stones, that's why; not round, bulky ones."

I scanned the ground for the appropriate stones and picked one up. "And you throw them sideways, like so." I demonstrated it for him, and my stone skimmed the surface of the lake perfectly.

He grinned, showing his perfect teeth, and copied my example.

I plopped down onto the grass, determined not to leave him alone. Or maybe I just wanted to hang out with him. He made one stone skip successfully across the water, his face lighting up with contentment.

"So, why aren't you at the match?" I prompted, opting for small talk.

I'd expected some long, detailed story of his life, but instead of that, he answered simply, "Because I don't want to."

"Are you sick?" I asked, confused.

"No."

"Tired?"

He grunted as he threw one more stone across the water. "No."

"Then what?"

He sighed, plopping down right next to me. "Because I don't want to play Quidditch anymore, that's why."

My thoughts got even more tangled at that. And then it dawned on me. "Oh. Being Head probably got in the way of your practices, didn't it?"

I'd always wondered how he was keeping up with all his responsibilities: with school work, duties of being Head Boy, and the fact that he was Captain of the Slytherin team – I just haven't gotten around to asking him that.

"I'm sorry you had to drop Quidditch," I said sympathetically.

To my surprise, he laughed. "I didn't _have_ to drop Quidditch, I _wanted_ to drop it."

"But I thought you were all about Quidditch," I said slowly. "Remember how you wanted to get into the team so badly you had your father pay for the broomsticks?"

A pink tinge appeared at his pale cheeks. "Exactly. My _father_."

My forehead wrinkled, not understanding him.

"When I was younger, I felt lucky because I had my plans already made for me," he said, his voice somewhat shaking. I sensed that it was difficult for him to talk about this. "I thought my parents were always right. My father wanted me to play Quidditch because he'd played Quidditch himself; my mother cut my hair every year because she led me to believe that it was what I wanted." He laughed.

I smiled. "Is that why you grew your hair out?" I reached out tentatively, and when he didn't pull away, I let my fingers course through his satin-like hair.

"When you grow up, you realize you have priorities of your own. Not everything your parents want for you are the things you want for yourself."

"So, aside from Quidditch and your _hair_," I smiled at that, "what other things do you want for yourself now?"

He didn't say anything, but turned his head and gave me a long, lingering look. His gray eyes bore into my brown ones, but before I could flush at his gaze or drop my eyes, he looked off once again into the lake.

"Do you really expect me to enumerate them for you one by one, Head Girl?" There was a hint of smile at his words.

He'd been calling me Head Girl for the past few weeks now, as a terms of endearment (or so I'd like to think).

I looked at my hands folded in my lap. "I guess not."

Silence engulfed us, but it wasn't the embarrassed one. It was something more like we were processing our own thoughts and deciding what to say to each other next.

I broke the silence first. "Is that why you've been, well, politer these days?" I asked timidly.

He laughed at that. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Well, no," I admitted. "It's just not the Malfoy I grew…"

"To hate?" he finished for me, the smile still present in his voice. Was I seriously going to say that?

"Accustomed to," I finished somewhat lamely.

He chuckled under his breath. "Yes, I guess you could say that."

I nodded gently, trying my best not to stare at him too much as I looked off into the lake this time.

"Are you finished?" he asked me, breaking the silence this time.

"Finished with what?"

"Asking questions."

It was only then that I'd realized that I indeed had asked him too much questions, but his answers only seemed to have created more disturbance in my mind.

Not wanting to invade his privacy even more I answered, "Yes, I guess so."

"It's my turn, then."

I turned to look at him and found him grinning. "Your turn to what?"

"Ask the questions."


	16. Chapter 15: Draco

CHAPTER 15: Draco

Hermione's eyes narrowed cautiously. "What would you have to ask?" she wondered.

Oh, a lot, I thought to myself. Like how come I couldn't stop calling you Hermione in my mind these past few days.

But instead of tackling that unnerving detail, I found myself asking the very same question she'd asked me first.

"How come _you're_ not at the match?"

To my surprise, the flush already present in her cheeks deepened. I'd expected her response to be somewhere along the lines of _I have to prepare for my N.E.W.T.s early, and I don't have time for nonsense like watching Quidditch_. What was it about this question that reduced her to this tense mess?

She swallowed before answering. "Because I don't want to," she answered, using my very same response.

"Not fair, H-head Girl," I said casually, careful not to slip and call her _Hermione_. "I answered your questions truthfully, so you have to answer mine. Tit for tat." Or was that tat for tit? I wasn't familiar with these Muggle idioms.

"I never really liked Quidditch, that's why."

"Oh? But I've seen you watch Quidditch all the time."

"That's because I watch Harry and Ron play, not because I actually like the game," she replied curtly.

"But you have that same excuse to watch Quidditch now, so how come you're not there?"

She looked uncomfortable. "I'm not feeling well," she lied awkwardly.

"And yet you have the strength to come here and talk to me instead of going up to the hospital wing immediately." I grinned.

"You know what? I feel worse right now as I'm talking to you, so I think I will." She stood up abruptly.

No, don't do that. I have more questions!

I almost called out to protest, but instead of leaving she just plopped back down onto the grass next to me, sighing in exasperation. Maybe I was a bit too full of myself, but it felt as though she craved for my company just as much as I wanted hers.

"Have I ever told you how bad you are with lying?" I teased, getting back to our conversation.

"Countless times," she replied darkly.

I laughed. "Okay, we'll skip that question, since you clearly don't want to answer it," I told her. "I have another one."

She nodded to as if to say, _Bring it on_.

"You'd probably think I was being so nosy, but…" I paused shortly. "… why the weasel? Why not _the_ Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the Chosen One, and all those other titles I haven't heard of vested upon him?" I tried to keep the bitterness from sounding in my voice.

It had been something bothering me a lot lately. Why would she choose Weasley, who had nothing, who wouldn't be able to fend for her when they – I cringed at the thought – got _married_?

Strangely, she flushed scarlet again, but it wasn't from embarrassment this time. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she looked at me.

Her temper flared. "Oh, I'm so flattered that you think so highly of me," she said sarcastically. "I wouldn't want someone just because they're famous or _rich_!" she spat out. "_The weasel _is kind and caring and funny, although kind of annoying and irritating at times – which is more than I can say for _some_ people."

It was obvious that she was pertaining to me at her last sentence, but I brushed that thought off. Yet, I couldn't help being angry that that was what she'd actually thought of me.

I shrugged coolly, careful not to let my insecurity show. "I was just curious."

"It's because you haven't been around long enough, Malfoy, to realize that there are more important things in this world than money and blood heritage."

The nerve of this girl! I wanted to slap her and make her eat her words.

But before I could do anything that I might regret later, I kept my mouth shut and decided to ask her my next question. "Have you kissed him?" I asked lightly, feigning a laugh. "Because I can't imagine Weasley ever locking lips with anyone." But inside, I cringed at the image of Hermione and him kissing and instead replaced the weasel's head with my own. That felt considerably better.

"How is that any of your business?" she asked, her face again beet red from embarrassment.

"I answered all of your questions, didn't I?"

It took a while for her to answer. "No, I haven't," she admitted, flushing deeper.

"Your boyfriend, and you don't kiss him?" I asked incredulously.

"We aren't a couple of sex-crazed animals locking lips inside every empty room we encounter," she retorted, shooting daggers at me with her glare.

I laughed, amused. "Sex-crazed?" I echoed her.

"Sure. You and, I don't know, Pansy?" she mocked.

I shook my head in disbelief. I didn't know if I should laugh or be irritated. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The innocent guy act doesn't work on you, you know that?"

"Who said I was lying?"

"I did. With the way you were sucking her face in that room –"

"What about it?" I prompted.

"If she hadn't said no, you probably…"

The look on my face probably shut her up. "So you're thinking I'm not a virgin anymore?"

She covered her ears with her hands and shook her head vigorously, screwing her eyes tight. "I _hate_ that word. Don't say that in front of me. Or any girl, for that matter. And why am I even discussing _sex_ with you?"

"You started it," I said incredulously under my breath.

She looked at me to check if I was about to bring the subject up again, and brought her hands down slowly. "Are you finished with the questions now?" she asked, her face wary.

"Just one more question," I said, softer this time. I had been saving this question for last.

"It had better be a lot more decent than the other ones you'd asked," she warned.

"Oh, it is," I said simply.

"Fire away, then."

I gave her a long, hard look as I prepared to ask my question.

"Did you really hate me back then?"

The question took her off guard and she looked at me, her eyes wide with disbelief at what I wanted to know. She seemed to consider her words, considered whether she should be honest, and nodded.

"You called me Mudblood while we were in our second year. You mocked Harry and Ron and Neville whenever you had the chance. You almost raped me." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it obviously held anger.

"I was that horrid." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

The sound of loud roaring suddenly came from the Quidditch pitch. The match seemed to be over.

Hermione stood up and brushed her robes free from wild grass that had clung to her.

"We'd better go back – Quidditch matches are famous for their after-game brawls," she said to me, and left without another word.

I hadn't stood up from where I sat, and, looking once more out the lake, called out to her.

"Hermione."

It was the first time I'd called her by her name, and we both knew it.

She stopped, her whole body tense. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry I called you Mudblood." It was barely audible.

Without any response at all or making any indication that she'd heard me, she continued to make her way towards the Quidditch pitch again.

* * *

[A/N: Aww, thank you guys for the sweet reviews! I especially loved this one review where she said she screamed and jumped up and down her seat after reading the chapter 14 (I can't believe my writhing has _that_ kind of effect on people :P)! It's very heartwarming to think that people really enjoy what I make! 3 I'm sorry if I'm not able to thank you guys personally for all the reviews, but I just want you guys to know that I appreciate all of them! I probably sound like a broken record by now, but thank you guys soooo much! -Nina]


	17. Chapter 16: Draco

CHAPTER 16: Draco

"_People say I've changed so much. Well, here's the truth. I grew up. I stopped letting people push me around all the time. I learned that you can't always be happy. I accepted reality."_

* * *

My thoughts reeled as Hermione's words reverberated in my mind.

"_You called me Mudblood."_

We were children then!

"_You mocked Harry and Ron and Neville whenever you had the chance."_

They deserved to be mocked!

"_You almost raped me."_

Because you're goddamn attractive, that's why!

"Did you see how I'd gotten that Snitch, huh, Draco?" Zabini's voice brought me out of my trance.

I sighed, irritated beyond measure. "No. For the last time, I didn't watch the game."

We apparently had won the first game of the season; the whole Slytherin House was at the common room, enjoying an after-game party. Crabbe and Goyle had sneaked to the kitchens and coerced the elves to give them food.

"Oh, yeah," Zabini said once again. "Head Boy duties, right?"

I nodded. "Yep. Head Boy duties," I lied.

"That's because my Drakie is so responsible," interjected Pansy, leaning into my shoulder and kissing the side of my neck.

She meant to be sweet, I knew that, but somehow, the sweetness had seemed somewhat strained. I leaned away, uncomfortable with the intimacy, and pretended to reach for another slice of steak and kidney pie.

"By the way, baby, what did you do for your duty again?" Pansy asked innocently.

"Looked over the grounds. It was horrible. I'd much rather have watched the game." I faked a pang of exasperation.

"The _grounds_." She smiled sweetly. "That's nice."

The sweetness seemed more than I can bear, though.

"Look, I'm really tired," I said to her, getting up and giving an exaggerated stretch. "I'm going to go off now. See you in the morning." I gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and said good night to everyone else in the room.

Making my way up the spiral staircase towards the dormitories, I couldn't help but envision how Hermione'd acted while she said that she hated me.

Her eyes were downcast, and her voice, although spiteful, trembled.

I knew I didn't know her well enough, but I could always tell whenever she was lying. But why would she lie to me?

Was it possible that I'd gotten what my family wanted? What my Father had set out for me to do?

What I'd initially thought of as impossible?

What I had bargained for as my so-called _revenge_?

Suddenly, just like everything else in my life, it wasn't what I wanted for myself anymore.

* * *

"Well done, Draco." Father looked at me proudly. "Excellent."

I had waited until the party was over before claiming the fireplace and talking to my father.

I forced a grin across my face. "I'm sorry it took so long, Father."

"The amount of time put into a task is nothing if the task turns out to be successful! Yes, Severus has indeed said that you've been spending an awful lot of time with the Mudblood lately."

_Snape sees us?_ "I wanted to make sure I did this job correctly. I am my own father's son, after all."

"Yes, of course. How about a shiny new broomstick, son? As a reward. I hear the latest model from the makers of Firebolt came out a few weeks ago."

If I had been younger, _and stupider_, I added honestly, I would've jumped for joy and bragged to just about everyone who'd listen that my father was giving me the fastest broomstick in the planet.

Instead, I found myself answering, "I think I don't need the broomstick, Father. I'm fine with the old one I got." If I could just remember where I'd put it.

"Yes – that was practically brand-new, wasn't it? I'm surprised you haven't sent an owl telling me you'd already broken it, seeing as how you're training as Quidditch Captain this year."

_I don't play Quidditch anymore._

I smiled forcefully, brushing that thought off. "A lot careful this year, I guess."

"Of course you are. Congratulations once again, Draco Lucius. _I'm proud of you_." He looked as though he was about to swell with pride for me.

I swallowed guiltily. "Thank you, Father."

I quickly backed from the fireplace before he could notice the sudden change in my mood.

_A bath is what I need_, I repeated to myself as I made my way out the common room and towards the Heads' special bathroom, even though I knew I didn't need one.

I just wanted an excuse to completely submerge myself in warm water and peppermint. To forget about Father.

Forget about Hermione.

The cool November night air seemed to seep through my bones as I made my way towards the bathroom, wrapping my arms around myself. Oh, why was it so darned cold tonight?

The goblins seemed to love money. "Ninety-nine knotted Knuts," I said as I approached the tapestry, using the newly-changed password. First the Sickles, now the Knuts.

The familiar melting of the silver door greeted me, and I made my way up the steps.

As soon as I reached the bathroom, though, a heady scent filled my nostrils. It smelled like the combination of lilacs and lavenders, and it gave the impression that someone else had just been in there and left a short while ago, the scent of her bubble bath having not completely left the room. And how come that smelled so… _familiar_?

A small bundle of clothes at the end of the corridor indicated that _that_ someone else was indeed still there with me, and _she_ hadn't left yet.

I should leave right now. I shouldn't invade her privacy. She was taking a bath, for Pete's sake!

But no matter how I tried to shuffle both my feet back towards the door and out, my subconscious won and led me to peer around the corner.

Hermione lay inside the tub, her whole body completely submerged in warm water (the bubbles all but gone), with both eyes closed and resting on the edge of the tub. Her hair was tied into a loose bun, with soft tendrils framing her face. The moonlight made her face white as porcelain, but not ghostly. She looked divine, heavenly. Like the lady of the lake, or something like that.

_What the hell, Draco!_

Without thinking, I found myself stripping my clothes and laying them right next to where her bundle was. And before I could stop myself, I had stepped into the still-warm water with her.

My flesh disturbed the tranquility of the water, but the ripples had not woken her up. She lay as still as she had before, her lips slightly parted to make way for her deep breaths.

I hated to admit it to myself but... she was so beautiful.

I made my way slowly towards her, almost painfully. If I had it my way, I would've just jumped into the water and seized her in my arms.

But I was selfish, and I longed for this stolen moment wherein I could just stare at her lovely face, for once not marred with anger or sadness or disappointment, without her knowledge.

When I was within two feet from her, careful not to move so as not to wake her up, something in her dream must have done so, because her long eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes flew open.

At first confusion spread across her face, but as soon as realization dawned on her she looked at me with shock and horror replacing the former emotion.

"D-Draco!" she gasped out. "Wh –"

"Shh," I whispered, cutting her off. "I – I didn't do anything. I –"

"Get out! I'm undressed!" she said hysterically.

"So am I," I reasoned out logically. "I – I just – wanted to try something…"

She cringed as I came closer, not knowing where to go. I knew what she was thinking: if she got up, I was sure to see something I shouldn't. But if she didn't…

I felt her warmth emanating from her. I cupped her face between my wet hands tenderly, looking into her eyes.

"We shouldn't…" she whispered.

"I've made an awful lot of mistakes in my life, Hermione. It wouldn't hurt to add just one more…"

I leaned in slowly, almost a millimeter a minute. I studied every inch of her face – how her chocolate brown eyes seemed almost hazel in the moonlight as she gazed at me in wonder, how that one minuscule mole underneath her right eye missed my notice every time I looked at her during the day…

She tensed as my lips were within an inch of hers, and she screwed her eyes tightly.

Her breath alone tasted wonderful on my lips. And then, eventually, my lips touched hers.

She pulled away almost instantly, her eyes still shut. "Am I still dreaming?" she said breathily.

"Were you dreaming of me?" I asked, my voice husky.

"Yes." She sighed.

This time, it was her who leaned in for another kiss. The kiss was longer, deeper. She pulled away.

"But everything seems so… real."

"It _is_ real. We can't both be having the same dream now, can we?"

At the third kiss, her hands rested against my bare chest. It was nice, having her touch me there. It felt so different when Pansy had…

And then she stiffened. She pushed me away, her eyes wide open now.

"No, Malfoy, no!" she shrieked, but her hands seemed to betray her as she was still holding onto me tenderly.

* * *

[A/N: Special shout-out to one of my most prolific reviewers, Kermit! :) (It was supposed to be a surprise/twist in the story, but you're right, Hermione WILL get her revenge on Draco for the almost-rape thing sometime within the next five chapters.) As for _how_ the revenge will go, guess you have to wait and see! :P Thanks for reading! :)  
Also, I have posted a new story. :) It's entitled "Of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey," and it's for _slightly_ older audiences. Curious? Check it out! And thanks again for reading! :) -Nina]


	18. Chapter 17: Hermione

[A/N: Please bear with me and read this – I promise this will be very short. :)  
I know you guys probably hated the last chapter (I did, too! I couldn't imagine having a guy invade my private time in the bathroom.), but I feel compelled to defend Draco's actions. He is just an average 17-year-old boy who has raging hormones and an unexplainable attraction towards Hermione; so of course, he only did what any other guy would do. I'm sorry if I offended some people with what I wrote and I hope you guys don't hate meeeeee. :( –Nina]

* * *

CHAPTER 17: Hermione

"_How can I decide on what's right, when you're clouding up my mind?"_

_Decode, _Paramore

* * *

"_Hermione…"_

_He leans in and kisses me very, very tenderly._

"_I love you, Ron…"_

_My fingers are curled into his mane of red hair, but for some reason, all the thickness seemed to be absent, replaced by a feeling of having my fingers run through silk._

"_Call me Draco," Ron whispers, his breath warm against my ear._

"_D-Draco?"_

_He pulls away then, and the familiar blond-haired boy greets me, his lips once again claiming mine…_

* * *

I stirred, the scent of my bubble bath lingering in my nostrils. I must have slept in the tub unconsciously. And now, whether I had control over it or not, Draco Malfoy seemed to have found a way into my dreams this time, too, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I slowly opened my eyes. At first, there was the distinct fuzziness of having just had your eyes opened after a long sleep, but I thought I could make out a shadow looming in front of me.

I blinked. The shadow came into focus.

Draco Malfoy? What was he doing here? Was I still dreaming?

But as soon as I realized that the water lapping around my bare body seemed too tangible to be considered as a dream, horror flooded me.

"Draco?" I gasped out. "Wh –" Why was he standing there? How long had he been there?

"Shh," he whispered, barely flinching. He seemed not to care that I had just caught him staring at me. "I – I didn't do anything –"

I hadn't waited for him to finish. "Get out! I'm undressed!" I flushed scarlet.

"So am I," he appeased. "I – I just – wanted to try something…" He advanced towards me, slowly.

What do I do now? Do I run for it? But if I did, he would see me _naked_! And if he does, I don't think I can go through that. I could die! Not him, not now, please…

We were within a hairsbreadth of each other. He reached his hands out tentatively to cup them on my chin and looked deeply into my eyes. My heartbeat thundered against my chest, and I was positive that he was aware of that.

I trusted him then. There wasn't any trace of malice in his eyes – if anything, he looked just as confused and unsure of himself as I did right at that very moment. _And he would kiss me again!_ my elated hormones told my excited body.

_Hermione Jean Granger! Think about Ron!_

It took all my efforts to rebuff his advances. "W-we shouldn't…" I choked out.

"I've made an awful lot of mistakes in my life, Hermione. It wouldn't hurt if I made just one more."

There it was again! He called me Hermione, just like he did the previous morning. Not Head Girl, not Granger, and certainly not Mudblood. _Hermione_.

I couldn't help but smile internally as how the word – _my name_ – seemed to flow out of his lips almost effortlessly, as though he were singing a melody.

My breathing was ragged as I waited for the elusive touch of his lips against mine. I felt the tip of his nose caress against my own, and I shivered.

And then… _heaven_.

I knew I didn't deserve this kind of paradise. I was betraying Ron, for Pete's sake! I pulled away almost instantly as soon as our lips had made contact.

You're probably still inside the dream, Granger, I told myself. You aren't really kissing Draco in real life. This is only a mere continuation of that dream.

However, I needed to be certain of that.

"Am I still dreaming?" I asked, my eyes shut, hoping for an affirmative response.

There was a hint of smile in his voice. "Were you dreaming of me?"

_No_. "Yes," I murmured gently.

I couldn't help myself this time, though. I leaned in greedily for another kiss, letting my tongue just glide against his full bottom lip.

If this is certainly _not_ real, then… I must be dead and in my own personal heaven right now.

"Everything seems so… real," I sighed as I pulled away again.

"It is real," he answered simply. "We can't both be having the same dream now, can we?"

Before I could fully process his words, though, he had leaned in and kissed me one more time, his tongue finally brushing against the tip of my own.

If I hadn't held onto his chest, I would've melted into a puddle into his feet right at that instant.

_It is real… it is real,_ his words echoed.

_This _is real.

I stiffened.

With every ounce of sanity I had left, I pushed him away. "No!" I shrieked hysterically, though my body, which yearned so deeply for him, betrayed me. "Malfoy, no!"

He backed off, his eyes wide. "Wait – what's gotten into you?"

Frantic, I screamed, "Get out! Get out!" I didn't know who particularly I was screaming to – my traitorous libido or him.

"Hermione – what's going –" He advanced towards me again, to console me perhaps, his face tight with worry.

I couldn't have that, though. I screamed my lungs out as he came at me.

"Stay away and turn around!" I warned him, quickly picking my wand up from my side of the tub and pointing it at him.

He backed off. "Wh –"

"Turn around!"

"What – why?"

"Because I'm naked and I can't have you seeing me, so turn around!"

He did as he was told and turned, showing me his broad shoulders and muscular back. I ached to have my palms go through it, but I knew it wouldn't help anyone.

"Hermione –"

I lifted my dripping figure from the tub and quickly recited an incantation that had me dry in an instant. My shivering hands almost made no progress as they put my robe on, but with some effort, I was able to do so.

He almost turned back around to check on me, but I screamed at him not to. I wanted to be gone from this bathroom and regain some of what was left of my dignity before I was to see him again.

"Hermione, are you finished?" I heard him call out later on, but I was already making my way down the staircase leading out of the bathroom to answer.

_How could you kiss that man who was Harry and Ron's worst enemy? How could you have _enjoyed_ that kiss? How could you betray Ron, Ron who had been there for you since the beginning, who'd stuck with you through all these years?_ I asked myself harshly as I hastily made my way down the corridor.

_I never wanted the kiss to happen_, I pleaded, looking for some excuse_. I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want it to…_

The questions running through my head were never spoken out loud, but they sounded as though the crashing waves of a nearby waterfall hit my ears.

* * *

[A/N: I know some will say that Hermione seemed sort of OOC at the end of the chapter (the part where she was screaming her lungs out at Draco; we all know that Hermione is not that type of person), but I have an explanation for that. She was shocked, confused, and terribly frightened of her growing need for Draco, so she felt she needed to force him _and_ her own thoughts and emotions away, thus the shouting. Whew! I was finally able to do a one-scene somewhat-long chapter for Hermione. :) –Nina]


	19. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

* * *

[A/N: Another POV merger! :)]

* * *

"_You can't play on broken strings,  
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel."_

_Broken Strings_, James Morrison and Nelly Furtado

* * *

Hermione

"Hey, Ginny, have you seen my copy of _Advanced Potion Making_?" I asked Ginny the following Sunday afternoon, getting on my knees and looking underneath my bed. "I can't find it anywhere. I stuck my Transfiguration homework between its pages."

"Maybe Ron has it. He borrowed a book from you last night, didn't he?" Ginny answered, picking at a spot on her chin in front of the mirror. "Argh! I hate this zit. I need some more bubotuber pus from Madam Pomfrey."

"I have some on the counter," I told her, gesturing towards the small green bottle. "No, I'm positive that Ron borrowed a different one…" I smacked my forehead, suddenly remembering. "Oh, yeah, I forgot! Draco asked to borrow it."

Ginny suddenly froze, her hands pausing dramatically in midair.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Since when have you been in _first-name_ basis with the guy?" she asked incredulously.

Oh, shoot. I slipped! "Since I've been working with him for the past few months," I fibbed quickly, "I've learned to call the _bonehead_ with his proper name."

Her forehead wrinkled in doubt, but she shrugged it off. "I guess you're right," she said simply and resumed worrying about her pimple again.

The topic of Draco Malfoy being brought up again came the sudden feeling of utter dread and irrational happiness in my heart. I couldn't imagine being with him, but I also couldn't imagine _not_ being with him. It was as though two halves of my heart were tugging against each other, one having not completely conquered the other yet.

I looked at Draco as a different person now, after his confessions near the school lake. He wasn't the same, arrogant, haughty boy I once knew – the one who called me Mudblood, the one who strutted around as if he owned the place, the one I'd originally punched in the face way back four years ago – he'd… _grown up_. He was his own person; he wasn't going to let anyone else push him around, and for that I knew it wasn't just for the sake of working with him that I wanted to be around him – I liked Draco.

Somehow, the word _liked_ never really summed up for what I really felt about him.

But I knew that if I were to be honest, my mind frantically screamed for Ron, but my heart secretly whispered for _him_. Though the whisper wasn't as forceful as the shout, it was enough to make the battle rage fiercely inside my body. My heart versus my brain.

Be rational, Granger, my practical side chastised. Even though Draco obviously likes you back, his family _never_ will. But Ron's family, they accept you for who you are! So quit dreaming and hoping for something you know can never and _will_ _never_ happen.

That thought alone made my heart weigh almost a ton.

I blinked back tears, careful not to let Ginny see.

I needed to forget about Draco. To forget about what happened last night. That kiss…

My mind suddenly flashed back to Draco's comment as we talked near the school lake.

"_Your boyfriend, and you don't kiss him?"_

I knew I had to kiss Ron then. He alone would be able to wipe Draco's kiss off my lips, and he would certainly claim my heart once again. I had to do it. I had to try…

I said a quick goodbye to Ginny and made my way down the spiral staircase towards the common room.

The weather outside was perfect. It was neither too hot nor too cold, with the sun shining brightly, so most of the Gryffindors were out in the lawns, enjoying the rare November weather. A few first- and second-years; Colin and Dennis Creevey, the camera-possessing Creevey brothers; along with Harry, Ron, and Neville, were the only people there.

Ron sat on one of the huge armchairs by the empty fireplace, his hand around an ice-cold glass of pumpkin juice, with Harry and Neville next to him.

I hadn't waited for any greeting as I made my way quickly towards him, sat on his lap, and kissed him.

Ron's entire frame stiffened as his breath hitched in his throat. _Come _on_, Ron_, my lips coerced as they moved against his. _Give it to me the way Draco expertly does it._

I pulled away and tried it at a different angle.

"Bloody hell," I heard Ron mumble under his breath in amazement as I came in again for a third kiss.

I felt tears quickly seeping through the tightly-shut corners of my eyes as I kissed him desperately, because try as hard as I might, there was _nothing_.

I simply _couldn't_ feel anything.

* * *

Draco

I lay on my four-poster that Sunday afternoon, absentmindedly turning the Malfoy locket round and round in my hands. It was silver, with a large emerald (bigger than my actual thumb) right in the center of it. It had been passed on to me by Father, from his father, from _his_ father… well, you get the picture.

Zabini was on the floor, polishing the handle of his Cleansweep. I wanted to tell him to go away and leave me alone, for I wanted some quiet time for myself.

It was getting more and more difficult to fulfill the task assigned to me all of a sudden. I _had_ gotten Hermione to fall in love with me (I hoped), but at what price? The breach of her trust?

I imagined what my father would say about that: _"It's not about Hermione Granger, Draco; it's about Harry Potter. And our family's pride and dignity."_

But I valued her trust more than anything now, I wanted to answer. I valued her, period. More than Harry Potter. More than my pride, my dignity, _myself_, actually. More than my own family.

I had to tell her, and I had to do it soon. I would ask her maybe to elope with me, and we could go someplace far, far away, just to get away from it all. I would even go to planet Mars with her! I knew she would feel betrayed when she found out my true purpose, but at least I could regain some of her trust again by saving her. I couldn't let her be captured. I just couldn't…

The sound of footsteps signaling the arrival of someone else disturbed my reverie. Oh, for the love of –

Pansy stood in the doorway, her hair disheveled, with one hand on her hip and her eyes determined.

"Get out, Blaise!" she screamed at Zabini, and Zabini looked up, surprised.

"What'd I do?" he asked, confused.

"I said get out!"

Zabini got up, more out of fear, I supposed. It wasn't unfamiliar to everyone how Pansy was like whenever she was pissed.

As soon as Zabini got both his feet out the door, Pansy slammed the door shut and locked it.

"Is something wrong, Pansy?" I asked her, not bothering to get out of bed nor taking my eyes off the locket.

Her only response was, "Draco, I'm ready," in a determined voice.

"Ready for what?" I asked, genuinely not caring. Why won't people just leave me alone for this day?

Her words suddenly flowed out in a rush. "You asked me during the summer if I was ready, and I said I wasn't, and I turned you down countless times… but I think I'm more than ready now."

This time, I actually bothered to turn my head and look at her. "What are you talking about?"

In a blinding-fast swiftness, she had gotten up on my four-poster to straddle my waist. "This," she murmured breathily, and she leaned forward for a greedy kiss, her arms wrapping around my neck.

Oh. What the _hell_.

I firmly but gently pushed her away. "I'm not in the mood, Pansy," I said simply.

_Are you sure you don't want this, Draco? It's what you've been begging her for during the summer. And now here it is, she's giving it to you freely, and yet you don't want it. Why the sudden change of mind_?

"What are you talking about, baby?" she pacified sweetly. "You're always in the mood." She leaned in for another kiss. "And I'm in the mood, too," she breathed. "I want you, Drake, right now…"

She suddenly peeled her shirt over her head, displaying a black lace bra underneath which contrasted heavily to her pale white skin. I stiffened.

"No, Pansy," I growled, unwavering, gripping the tops of her arms and pulling myself from where I was pinned underneath her.

I stood at the side of my bed, towering over her. She sat upon my bed, topless and looking helpless, her eyes downcast as she stared at her hands folded on her lap.

"You're so different, Draco," she said in a small and feeble voice. "You're drifting away all of a sudden… was it something I did?"

I sighed heavily. "It's not you, Pansy; it's me. I told you, I'm not in the mood."

She seemed not to be listening to me as she continued to mumble to herself. Abruptly, she became rigid, her face snapping towards me unexpectedly.

"It's that Mudblood, isn't it?" she shrieked, her eyes frenzied. "Answer me!" she prompted.

"This isn't about Hermione," I said stubbornly, but she seemed not to believe me.

"She's been giving you Amortentia," she accused.

Not waiting for any answer, she jumped from my bed and hurriedly put her shirt back on. "If I get my hands on her…" I heard her mumble as she reached for the doorknob.

She just crossed the line.

Fuming, I took a hold on her outstretched wrist and spun her around, twisting it in front of her face. She looked up at me in fear, but anger was clearly blazing in her eyes.

"If you so much as touch a single hair on her head…" I warned darkly, letting the threat hang.

Pansy struggled to free herself from my death hold, and when I finally did, she rushed out of the dormitory, angry sobs wrenching her entire body.


	20. Chapter 19: Hermione

[A/N: This chapter, for me, was one of the hardest to write. You'll see why.]

* * *

CHAPTER 19: Hermione

The following Monday night, just after dinner, Pansy Parkinson, along with her gang of Slytherin girls, namely: Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass, were leaning conspicuously against the hourglasses just inside the entrance hall where Draco and I usually met for our nightly patrols. They weren't doing anything out of line, but my intuition told me they were up to something. Not wanting to be acquainted with their presence anymore, I quickly ducked my head and geared for the opposite direction.

"Oi, Head Girl!" one of them called out. Too late; they'd already seen me.

Sighing, I turned back around. "Yes?" I asked them, puffing my chest out to give them the idea not to mess with me since I was Head Girl.

"We're giving you a heads-up," said Pansy haughtily. "We overheard a couple of students saying they're going to have a wizards' duel tonight."

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "Which two students?"

"Crabbe and Goyle," Tracey Davis said in her unpleasant nasal voice. "They're fighting over little Astoria." She gave a little nudge towards Daphne Greengrass.

Daphne scoffed. Astoria was her younger sister, and if I were to be honest, she was head-and-shoulders above her in the beauty department. It was hard for me to envision Crabbe and Goyle fighting over a girl, though, maybe because I had their names hardwired to ginormous cakes and pastries. But I had to admit that they – _we_ – were all growing up now, changing.

Nodding slowly, I said, "Okay. When and where are they having the duel?"

"At the warehouse down at the dungeons," Pansy replied. "Sometime during midnight."

_Where you were giving Draco the time of his life just a couple of months ago?_ I wanted to retort, but decided to keep my mouth shut. After all, I wasn't supposed to know about that. Instead, I pretended to look puzzled.

"It's near a small dragon statue. I'm sure you won't miss it."

I nodded determinedly. "Alright. We'll take care of it. Thanks for the, er, heads-up," I said awkwardly.

Pansy's expression changed to a look of concern. "I don't think bringing Draco would be such a good idea," she mused slowly.

"Why not?"

"It would break his heart terribly to watch both of his friends battling each other," was her reply in a soft murmur.

The other three nodded, agreeing with her.

_Draco's heart breaking terribly? _My mind echoed. I almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea.

_But she obviously knows Draco best; after all, she's his _girlfriend, my insecure side sneered. _You don't know a thing about him. _I sighed inwardly.

"Then, you four want _me _to take care of this on my own, without Draco." For some reason, Pansy's mouth turned down at the corners after I'd said his name.

"That's the plan. We don't want either of them to get hurt, so please go and stop them," Daphne Greengrass egged on. It was strange, hearing her abnormally deep voice saying those words.

I left, giving them a quick assurance that I would be there to break up the duel. Although Pansy and her friends' behaviors seemed a bit suspicious, it was nevertheless my responsibility as Head Girl to listen to every student's complaint.

_I'm sure they just don't want their friends to get hurt at the hands of each other,_ I told myself firmly. But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself of this thought, I couldn't get Pansy's untrustworthy smirk off my mind.

* * *

I arrived at the said warehouse at a quarter before midnight. I was careful not to walk into Draco's line of vision as I made my way there from the Gryffindor Tower; I'd told him Ginny was sick and I couldn't report for patrol, as I had to take care of her.

The door, just like the last time I came here, was slightly ajar, but no sounds came from inside. Good. I'd planned on being early and hiding out so I could prevent the duel from even happening in the first place.

I crept into the door slowly and shut the door behind me.

"_Expelliarmus_!" someone shouted angrily.

Before I could even jump at the voice, the wand flew out of my hand and fell into a dark corner.

_It's a set-up._

I ran back towards the door, but someone was now blocking it. Her face was hidden in shadows, but I could still make out who it was. Pansy. Her face was twisted into a look that was unpleasant.

"There's no escaping, Granger," she said evilly. "_Impedimenta_!"

I fell on my face as I ran to get away from her, only to realize that the same three girls with her just this evening were with us inside the room as well.

"What is this?" I choked out, the pain from the impact of hitting the floor spreading over my spine.

"_Locomotor mortis_," Tracey said darkly, and my legs sprang together, unmoving. I struggled to get free, but the curse was unyielding. "_Incarcerous_," she added for good measure, and my wrists and ankles bound together with a rope conjured out of nowhere. The ropes bit tightly against my skin, and I let out a sharp howl of agony.

I had no choice but to scream for help, but Pansy, who was now looming over me, cackled maliciously. "No one can hear you, Mudblood," she screamed loudly and angrily at me, as though I were dim-witted and couldn't understand her. "Daphne sound-proofed the entire room!" And, as if to prove her point, she kicked a few crates and let them crash onto the floor, making a sound loud enough for the whole castle to probably hear.

I shook in fright as I looked up at her, my eyes watering. I had never seen Pansy so crazed; there was a frenzied fire in her eyes. But what did I do? I didn't do anything!

"What –" I squeaked out.

"_Oppugno_!" Pansy shrieked, and a group of birds formally encircling her head attacked me, their claws and beaks pecking at my skin, and try as I might to wave them off, they kept coming.

Pansy threw a few more hexes at me, and I was reduced to a whimpering lump later on. With my wand gone, there was no hope for me. Her friends all pitched in with a few of their own spells until I thought I would pass out. And in all the while, satisfaction lit up Pansy's own face.

I could taste blood in my mouth, mixed with the saltiness of my tears. My mind reeled in between consciousness and unconsciousness as I slumped on the floor.

And in all the duration of the torture, I found myself asking over and over: _Why me?_

Pansy raised her wand for the final spell, I was sure, for the way she looked vindictively at me. "I saw you with _my_ Draco at the grounds, Mudblood!" she screeched. "_Crucio_ –"

So this was happening to me because of Draco. Everything was _wrong_ because of Draco…

I braced myself for the attack.

"Pansy, don't!" Millicent suddenly said, raising an arm to stop her. "Do you really want to get thrown in Azkaban for something as trivial as this Mudblood?"

Although she had been horrid, I couldn't help but feel grateful then. I didn't think I could stand _Crucio_ on top of everything…

Pansy paused to consider her words. "You're right," she finally hissed. "Why the hell would I waste my life in jail if I could break her in right now without being in it?" she added nastily.

And then came the hard blow of her leather boot against my tender stomach. I screamed and doubled over in pain, clutching my midsection. She let out a laugh of pure hatred.

"That's better," she said, gratified, and twenty or so more blows came from her and her friends combined, all without magic.

I didn't know which was more painful then – the hexes or the crude but effective Muggle punishment. Soon my mind detached from my body, and I was having this out-of-body experience. The pain seemed to make my body more numb than aware, though, and I felt myself drifting.

_Was this how dying was like?_ I wondered. It was nice. Peaceful…

I felt someone tug my hair sharply and lift me off the ground. My scalp burned as my hair strained against it. I tried to see who it was, but my vision was terribly blurry. Maybe this was how it was like for Harry without his glasses…

"Let this serve as a lesson to you, you filthy little Mudblood _slut_," Pansy threatened with a dangerous tone, every syllable saturated with venom. Her breath was hot against the side of my sweaty face. "If you _ever_ come onto _my_ Draco I will _rip_ you apart."

My brain accepted the words, but I couldn't make sense of them strung together like that.

"And, oh, don't even _think_ of mentioning this to anyone," she added viciously. "Or else…"

She shoved my face against the floor one more time, and finally, I heard their footsteps leaving the room one by one. I hadn't expected anything else. Of course they were to leave me here to rot and die, all by myself…

I wanted to drift into unconsciousness, but my body wouldn't allow me; everything ached and I couldn't numb the sensation. I didn't know how long I lay there, but sometime later, someone came back. She quickly muttered the countercurses and the ropes vanished, and my legs sprang apart.

"I'm sorry," Millicent Bulstrode whispered, and she left quickly before I had the chance to ask her why she'd done it.


	21. Chapter 20: Draco

CHAPTER 20: Draco

"You should apologize to Pansy, you know," said Daphne Greengrass to me, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. "She's done nothing but cry all night, and she says it's your fault."

It was Tuesday morning, and Daphne stood in front of the portrait hole, blocking my way out of the common room. I was pissed, and I was hungry. Pansy wanted me to say sorry to her, but for what? It was Pansy's own fault anyway, with the way she threatened to hurt Hermione after I told her to leave Hermione out of whatever issue she had with me.

"I'll have you know that I'm Head Boy, Greengrass," I said darkly, puffing my chest out to emphasize my badge. "So get out of my way."

"I don't care," she replied, matching the same dark tone in my voice.

I groaned out in frustration. "Look," I said, conceding. I wanted to go to the Great Hall already for some breakfast, and maybe see _her_ beforehand. "Just tell her I'm sorry, alright? And ask her if she'd forgive me," I fibbed quickly, for good measure.

Greengrass grinned, and Pansy's voice sounded from somewhere behind me. "Of course I forgive you, Drakie," she whispered sweetly. It was sickening.

She tugged on me to turn me around and gave me a somewhat-wet kiss, her hands wrapping around my neck.

_Just get this goddamn kiss over with_, I silently told myself. I imagined I was somewhere else, where the person who was kissing me was not her, but Hermione.

Pansy pulled away with satisfaction clearly in her eyes. "I love you." I must have done a good job imagining.

I forced a smile on my face.

* * *

I made my way up to the Great Hall swiftly, not bothering to wait for Pansy any longer. It was a good thing that Greengrass had gotten up to the girls' dormitory with her when she realized that she'd forgotten her books, and so I was able to escape without their notice. Millicent Bulstrode, another seventh-year Slytherin, smiled shyly at me as I made my way out of the dungeons.

_Guess she hasn't changed_, I thought, and pretended I didn't see her.

Potter and the red-haired Weasley girl entered the Great Hall later on as I waited outside for Hermione after noticing she hadn't come for breakfast yet, hand in hand. I narrowed my eyes. She didn't look sick at all. They didn't take any notice of me, however, but I didn't know why they bothered me a lot, considering I had never been attracted to the redhead. And then it dawned on me that I was jealous because… I would never be able to flaunt my real feelings towards Hermione for fear of being seen by others.

I brushed that thought off. I didn't need anyone to see how much I cared for her – impure blood and all – because _her_ knowing that was enough.

It was a good ten minutes before the first class then, and she still hadn't shown up. Where could she be? I was starting to get worried. Just then, a group of Potter's gang – Longbottom, Finnigan, and the black* Mudblood – went past me and I caught a few words of what they were saying:

"Lavender found her – said she was bleeding to death –"

I spun around, my heart thundering. "Excuse me," I called out to them. Longbottom cowered at my sight and the other two glared.

"I overheard you three talking about someone bleeding – who? I'm Head Boy, so I need to know," I added quickly.

Finnigan's eyes narrowed in suspicion and looked as though he was considering telling me or not. Finally, he said slowly, "Hermione Granger."

Blood pulsed through my ears. _Oh Merlin_. "Where is she?" I asked them, trying to keep the hysteria from being evident in my voice.

Finnigan replied, "At the hospital wing. What's it to you, Malfoy?"

"She's Head Girl," I told them quickly, and, without waiting for any response from them, dashed from where they stood gaping at me and towards the fourth floor.

I could never remember ever being this hasty as I made my way up the moving staircases at Hogwarts and, without even pausing to catch my breath or realizing that I'd gotten there in record time, I opened the wide double-doors of the hospital wing.

The white hangings at one of the beds in the middle ward were drawn. I supposed that was where Hermione was, and I made my way towards it, my heart thundering.

Madam Pomfrey, who just came out from behind the hangings, greeted me. "What do you need?" she barked out.

"Is Hermione there?" I asked her nervously, not even bothering to use her surname.

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes. "She needs rest," she said firmly. "And besides, she already has one visitor, and _he_ insists on not leaving her." She wrinkled her nose at this.

I pushed past, ignoring her, my Malfoy-ish ways coming back to me, and for good reason. She wasn't going to budge and let me in, I was sure of that, and so I needed to be assertive.

I got behind the hangings and the weasel's red hair greeted me as he turned around to glare, but I couldn't care less about that.

Hermione's face, her beautiful face, was marred by deep gashes and one of her eyes was swollen shut. The rest of her body was under the white blanket, and I could sense that there was an extent of damage. She looked up at me, and looked as though she were about to burst into tears.

"Get out of here, Malfoy," Weasley growled, getting up on the stool which he sat upon.

"I'm Head Boy," I told the weasel. How many times have I used that excuse today? "And Granger's Head Girl, so I need to know what happened to her."

Weasley looked to Hermione for approval, and Hermione gave a small nod. He sat back down onto his stool and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I need to talk to Malfoy alone, Ron," Hermione croaked, her voice not more than a murmur.

It was irrelevant to the amount of trouble she endured, I knew that, but jealousy pooled inside my stomach as soon as I realized that she would never be able to call me by my first name in front of others.

As soon as Weasley left I turned on her, my voice dropping. "Who did this to you?"

"It was – just a couple of students messing around. Wizards' duel," she stammered.

My eyes narrowed; I was angry with her. "Are you seriously lying to me again?"

"I don't want more trouble." Finally, she burst out into tears.

Never have I seen Hermione look more scared than she did then. She was trembling, her breathing was ragged, and she was gnawing off her swollen bottom lip as she cried silently. I sensed she didn't want the weasel barging in through the hangings, and so she worked hard to keep herself inaudible.

And then it hit me – the answer was obvious. She said it herself, didn't she? The answer just held me this morning with the same pair of hands she used to injure this girl.

"_Pansy_." The word dropped out of my mouth like a curse.

The shudder that coursed through her body was enough to prove my intuition. History was repeating itself.

"I'll take care of her," I promised, my voice determined. I'd made a pact to myself that no other girl would get hurt because of Pansy.

Vigorously, she shook her head. "Don't. She'll only hurt me more…"

"Don't be afraid of her, or anyone. I'm here."

She let out an involuntary squeak, and she bit down on her lip hard to prevent any more noise from escaping. "Your girlfriend is a _sadist_," she choked out. "She's not going to stop. Maybe – we shouldn't see each other anymore."

I didn't answer that. "I told you, I'll take care of it."

I leaned in and did something I had never done before – I kissed her, tenderly, on the forehead.

* * *

I found Pansy later on at the common room during the lunch hour. She stood up and greeted me happily, but my hand ran right through the air and smacked her squarely across the cheek.

I saw it in slow motion then – how my hand came in contact with her skin, how her entire face whipped excessively sideways, and how her long dark hair which I'd once admired flapped wildly with the impact.

It wasn't my style to hit girls physically – personally, I found it cheap and never understood why some guys stooped down to that level – but I felt she was _cheaper_ and she deserved it.

The entire common room fell silent as she gasped and raised a hand to her battered cheek. I didn't care if the entire _world_ saw us. She trembled.

"D-Draco?" she asked, her voice small as she looked to me in fear. "What's wrong?"

"What did you do to Hermione?" I asked darkly, each syllable said slowly and deliberately.

The fear in her eyes was instantly replaced by anger, although tears were still visibly shining in them. "She asked for it."

I barked out a bitter laugh – I didn't know why I was laughing – and shook my head in disbelief.

"She was getting between us, I could feel it!" she continued, her voice cracking. "You don't love me the same way you did before, and –"

"You did it again."

"You are mine, Draco!" she screamed hysterically, the sobs slurring her words. "No one would ever love you the way I do!"

Incredulously, I told her, "You are crazy," and let my index finger press hard against her forehead. "We're _over_."

* * *

*For those offended, I'm sorry! I wanted Draco to seem as Draco-ish as possible, thus the somewhat-racist remark. I'm sorry, you guys! :( -Nina


	22. Chapter 21: Hermione

CHAPTER 21: Hermione

Light shone through the once-dark room and squarely hit the shut lids of my eyes.

I opened my eyes slowly. My entire body ached, but I could remember clearly where I was.

In the warehouse down at the dungeons. Where Pansy and her friends –

I trembled as I remembered Pansy's satisfied face as she looked at me while I bled on the floor, and realized something.

Draco and I could never be together while Pansy was around. I might've fought the Death Eaters before, but there was something about Pansy that ignited irrational fear in my heart.

Death Eaters were cruel, but Pansy was plainly _sadistic_.

Hysteria crept up on me again, but I forced them back and tried to stand up, or even move my body.

I couldn't move at all – my muscles seemed to be in coma. I wanted to scream for help – the soundproof-spell Greengrass must've placed on the entire room must've worn out by now – but my windpipe was obstructed by something I could only realize as more sobs coming along.

Luck seemed to be on my side, though, because sometime later on, I heard the wooden door swing open.

I was behind a large crate, and if I weren't to make a sound I knew that he or she wouldn't notice I was there – so I forced my mouth to create words.

"_Help_ – _me_."

I felt the visitor stop in his tracks. "Hello?" he called out, and only then did I realize that he was actually a _she_, and she sounded like Lavender.

"Lavender," I choked out.

I heard Lavender's footsteps coming closer before I saw her head peer tentatively around the crate where I lay on the floor, helpless, and saw her eyes bulge and her face register shock.

"Oh my – Hermione!" she gasped out.

I guess I looked far worse than I thought I did.

"I'd left something in here as I was doing detention for Filch two nights ago, and – what happened to you?!" she asked, panic-stricken, as she helped me get on my feet.

I slumped forth in her arms – I couldn't feel my legs at all – and realized that I couldn't get up at all, even with help.

"My wand," I gasped out.

"_Accio wand_," she stated, and my wand, which was hidden behind the tall shelf full of old brass products I couldn't identify, zoomed towards her.

"_Mobilicorpus_," she later on murmured, pointing her wand at me, and I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"We have to get you up to the hospital wing," she told me as she led the way, still keeping me within the hairsbreadth of her wand.

_You think?_ I thought sarcastically, but I knew that my sarcasm was hardwired to my gratitude.

* * *

"So, how are you feeling now? You look loads better by the way," Lavender said as she visited me sometime later in the early evening, after she'd eaten dinner.

Ron had argued with Madam Pomfrey about never leaving me, but Madam Pomfrey won, thus leaving Ron cussing as he left the hospital wing. I couldn't deny the feeling of freedom as he did so – he wouldn't buy the story of how two stupid first-years had a wizards' duel and hit me by mistake. He supposed that first-years wouldn't have been able to produce that much damage, and demanded to know the truth. And so I'd been alone when he left, until Lavender came to visit.

I smiled warmly at her, despite my longing for solitude. _Lavender isn't so bad_, I admitted to myself. I'd always strung Parvati's name to hers, branding them as the Gossiping Duo, never realizing that they weren't the same kind of person. And, if it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't even be here in the first place and would probably still be in that warehouse up to now, undiscovered. "I'm better. Thank you, Lavender," I said sincerely.

"What were you doing in there in the first place?" she asked curiously, and I found myself thinking, _Uh oh_.

"A couple of students were having a wizards' duel, and they hit me by mistake." I didn't know how many times I'd used that lie (with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Draco, Neville, and Luna) that it even sounded almost like the truth in my ears now.

Lavender laughed, shaking her mane of chestnut-colored hair slightly. I'd always thought she had perfect hair. "So we can assume that Pansy hit you because you were cozying up to her Draco, am I right?" she asked frankly.

I kept my rarely-used poker face on. "No."

She smiled kindly. "Hermione," she said, "I know. Millicent – she experienced the same thing."

A thousand questions exploded in my mind – Millicent _Bulstrode_? What? Why? How? When? Where?

"You probably don't know this, but Millicent Bulstrode and I have been neighbors since we were children," she told me, the questions in my face probably evident. "I hated her back then – she was always teasing me and telling me I wouldn't be any good at Hogwarts because I was a Gryffin-_bore_, blah, blah, blah, but one day, she just – changed.

"I started going out with Seamus, and she was visibly interested in that – always asking for tips over the summer and wondering what the best way was to get somebody to like her. I wanted to know who she was always pertaining to, but she never told me – until I saw her one day just like I saw you – bloody, and – and _broken_ – and she told me Pansy had hurt her because she had caught her in the middle of sending a love letter to Malfoy. She'd harbored a secret crush on Draco Malfoy all these years. And then I realized," she paused, shaking her head in disbelief, "Malfoy is untouchable. Not while Pansy is around, anyway."

"Millicent saved me," I whispered. "From the Cruciatus Curse."

"I guess she felt compelled to do something for _you_ – considering the fact that no one ever did anything to save her."

I nodded gently, the image forming in my mind. Millicent, broken, defeated, no one there to save her as Pansy did the unthinkable. She endured double of whatever magnitude of pain I'd experienced, and yet, through it all, she still stood by Pansy's side, because she had no one left.

"I have a question, Hermione," Lavender's soft voice interrupted my musings.

I looked at her. "What?" I murmured, although I was certain by the look in her eyes that I knew what was coming for me.

"Ron loves you," she said simply.

"That's not a question."

She laughed under her breath. "I always knew he did. Even when we'd been together – his heart never really was for me. I could always tell he was in love with someone else." She paused. "And now I'm asking you – do you love him?"

I looked at my hands grasping the blanket tightly that it hurt my fingers. "Of course I do," I whispered, but even though I wanted so badly for it to be resolute, it didn't sound like that to me.

"And – Malfoy?"

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "I love Ron, I do," I convinced her, and myself, firmly. "But Draco –"

I couldn't find the right words to continue.

"He's someone new," she finished for me.

"More, Lavender." I struggled. "There's _passion_, and emotion – he consumes me."

I found her nodding as I looked up, although I could see that she didn't fully understand what I was going through.

"Now I know," I said lightly, bringing up a sad smile on my face. "Parvati's the flake. You aren't."

She smiled, too. "She's my best friend, Hermione," she said simply.

Silence followed that, and she stood up and prepared to leave, but before she did, she timidly stood at the side of my bed, her arm outstretched and touching the hangings, but never really drawing them apart.

"Hermione," she said softly, but she didn't turn around.

"Yes?"

"You said you love Malfoy – maybe you're forgetting something." Her voice trembled.

I fell silent as the enormity of what she said next engulfed me. It had been the very thing I had been trying to suppress even in my own mind in all the months I'd spent time with him, the very thing I had been denying to myself – and I couldn't bear to hear them spoken out loud.

"He's one of _them_."


	23. Chapter 22: Hermione

[A/N: For **cheeky99oreo** :) thanks for the support! :)]

CHAPTER 22: Hermione

Those three days spent at the hospital wing gave me more than enough time to contemplate over the situation at hand.

No, the game was _over_. Draco Malfoy was not getting under my skin again. He was not making me believe any more of his "turned-over-a-new-leaf" act, because, try as I might to suppress everything, Lavender was right. He was one of _them_.

He always had been, and always will be. There was no way he could've done a 180-degree turn within the short past few months and changed his previous ways.

There had never been any moment when I'd forgotten what he was about to do just the previous year. What he was about to do for the… the _tattoo_ that marred his forearm, the one that suggested his _supremacy_ above others. There was never a time when _it_ escaped my mind – but, regrettably, _stupidly_, I chose to ignore everything. I chose to turn my other cheek. I chose to believe him. I chose to believe that something as controversial as that could be wiped out by something as clichéd as… love.

But things were different now. I would not be indifferent towards the matter anymore. I _would_ handle the truth. I was strong enough for that.

But I knew I was already in too deep.

I was not letting any of my personal emotions get in the way of things, however. I might have fallen for him, fallen _too_ _deeply_ for him, but – I shook my head fiercely.

No. Draco Malfoy would be telling me everything tonight. The truth would be painful, but the truth was better than all the lies he had been feeding me.

And so I waited for him in the dark, cold night, not at our usual setting, but outside, near the Forbidden Forest. I felt I needed to get back to reality, and the location, unlike within the castle itself, was not stained by any of his haunting memories.

I heard the crackle of a shoe stepping over a twig behind me and jumped, silently scolding myself for being so scared.

And, once again, the Draco that greeted me was a different one as soon as I'd turned.

He didn't have the easy confidence he'd shown me during the past few weeks – months – we'd been together, nor did he have the swagger of the former Malfoy I used to hate. No, there was evident hopelessness in his actions and eyes, with the way he grasped both of his hands tightly together and the way his body shook violently. It startled me and almost made me forget the entire purpose of tonight's meeting.

"D-Draco?" I stammered, flabbergasted by his transformation. "What happened to you?"

He swallowed convulsively, his lower lip trembling. "We need to leave right now, you and me."

His proposal stunned me. "What – no!" What was he suggesting? That I _elope_ with him?

With both his eyes screwing helplessly, he whispered, "_Please_, Hermione..."

Beyond comprehension, his unexplained vulnerability brought tears into my own eyes, and I grew angry. I didn't know who I was mad at specifically, if it were him or my own emotions. Maybe I was mad at him for being so scared, or maybe I was mad at myself for letting him get to me again.

"No, shut up, Draco!" I screamed angrily, trying desperately to get back to my initial argument, the sobs making my voice crack in places. "You're one of them. You're a Death Eater!" It was rude to point, I knew that, but I did it anyway.

My words stunned him, for his gray eyes widened in shock and his entire body stopped its relentless shaking. Ear-shattering silence followed that outburst – I could hear my own heart beating against my chest.

His only response, after a disconcertingly long time, was a small and desperate, "What?"

"That's all you can say? _What_?!" I grew even angrier with him then. He wasn't even going to try to defend himself? What a coward!

"Does it matter? I thought you _knew_ that," he replied in frustration.

"What are you saying? Of _course_ it matters!" I yelled. "Your kind have tortured, have killed people, Malfoy! _You_ almost killed Dumbledore!"

He was violently shaking again as he started pacing back and forth in front of me, his shoes creating turbulence against the peaceful blades of grass on the ground. "I thought you were different, Hermione," he whispered as he walked up and down, his voice quivering. "I thought you liked me for the person I was, and not what I am…"

"_How_ can I like someone with blood-stained hands? You allowed the Death Eaters into the castle grounds and -"

Abruptly, he stopped in front of me and pulled the left sleeve of his robe up to his elbow, exposing his left forearm, to shove the Dark Mark in my face, his eyes disbelieving as they glared at me. "Is this it, huh?" he screamed angrily, pointing at it with a long, pale finger. "Is this what everything comes down to? What _you and I_ have gone down to? After everything I've said and done, hasn't my mistake been forgiven and forgotten?"

"That is no mistake," I said slowly, my voice dripping with revulsion. "You chose that path."

"Then tell me something, Hermione. Tell me the reason why you've spent so much time in my company when you were aware of what I was all along. Explain things to me because I don't understand."

I shook my head, not wanting to answer him.

"Why? Why would you endure Pansy's torture?"

_I had no choice._

"After that one night I tried to rape you, why would you still choose to forgive me?"

I still didn't answer him.

"Why would you accept every kiss I'd given you? Why, Hermione?"

"Enough!" I yelled at him, not wanting to hear anymore. "I can't take this anymore. I'm not the problem. I'm not the Death Eater here – _you_ are."

As soon as I'd said those words, the dark, misty night sky suddenly glowed with a sickening green light, and the infamous mark, the serpent-tongued ghastly skull, appeared all of a sudden right in the middle of the sky, right above Hogwarts castle.

Draco let out a sharp gasp of pain as he clutched the forearm he'd just brandished in front of my face a few moments ago, the formerly-dark markings now glowing with a red color not unlike that of blood. Unwittingly, I took a step towards him, my arm outstretched. As much as I hated to admit it, I didn't like seeing anything that caused him discomfort.

"D-Draco? What's going on?" I asked timidly, although I was certain I didn't want to know the answer.

"They know I'm here – they'll know…" he mumbled, still clutching his arm, but careful not to let his fingers brush anywhere near the mark.

"Are they – Draco!"

He abruptly snapped his head up to look up at me, but instead of the anger that I expected to radiate from him, there was the frustration and hopelessness present in his eyes once more. "You should've listened to me. We should've left earlier, when we had the chance…"

"What are you _talking_ about –"

I looked up, and regretted that I did it.

The sick feeling in my gut came with the twenty or so masked Death Eaters in shrouds that loomed suddenly towards us, came so softly and silently you'd think they just glided across the grass. My heart, heavy with fear, dropped to the pit of my stomach. The enemies came and enclosed us, painstakingly slowly, in a wide circle. Determinedly, I clutched at my wand tightly in my pocket and raised it. It wasn't for nothing that I was the best witch in our year; it wasn't for nothing that I was a member of Dumbledore's Army; it wasn't for nothing that I was Harry Potter's best friend…

One of the Death Eaters on my left stepped out of the perfect circle they'd made and cackled wickedly.

"Good job, Draco," mocked Bellatrix Lestrange in her shrill voice as soon as she'd removed the ghastly skull they used for masks.

Things weren't like the slow-motion you often saw in movies, then – everything happened in real time, but I was able to catch a glimpse of a lot of things in that short moment. I saw Bellatrix Lestrange as she took her wand out in my peripheral vision.

And, as I snapped my head to turn around, I saw Draco's guilty face confirm what she'd just made known.

But before my face could truly register shock at the revelation, I felt myself falling forth, the grass-covered dirt ground coming up in front of my face.

* * *

[A/N: So... there! I hope you guys liked it. Read and review please! Thanks! And, oh yeah, thanks to the people who've favorited, followed, and especially to those who've reviewed! Thank youuuuu! -Nina]


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